


If It's Never Dark

by Deathtouch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Childhood Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Isaac's Dad is his own warning, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Minor Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 50,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15901212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathtouch/pseuds/Deathtouch
Summary: ☛ au in which isaac is fresh out of juvenile detention and living in a group home; he starts working at the animal clinic, falls hard for scott mccall, and deals with the fallout of his father's abuse and subsequent arrest.Scott looked at Isaac, not sure what else to show him. “So, uhm...You, uh...”Isaac braced for the questions that were sure to come. Weren’t you that kid who went to juvie? Why did you get expelled from your old school? Did you really steal a car? Why was your dad was arrested?“You ever work with animals before?” Scott asked instead, much to Isaac’s relief.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends. this is my first time writing this pairing and most of these characters. i really like isaac and scott so i hope i've done them justice! this fic is fully finished and the total wordcount comes to about 51k. updates will be posted twice a week on wednesdays and sundays :)
> 
> just as a **fair warning** ; this fic is angst with a happy ending. it gets pretty dark before it gets light. there are a lot of **dark themes including child abuse, suicide/suicidal thoughts, ptsd, descriptions of anxiety attacks** , and eventually there will even be some **minor character death**. not all of these things are currently tagged because i plan on updating the tags as characters appear or events occur. if i ever miss something that should be tagged, please feel free to let me know at any time during the posting of this fic. i'll be happy to fix it and update the tags accordingly. 
> 
> please don't let my warning scare you too much. it's a slow build with isaac crushing hard, lots of pining, and plenty of cute stuff to counterbalance the angst. it really does have a happy ending, i promise! the minor character death is nothing to be too concerned about either, the character who dies in this fic also dies in the show so it shouldn't be too great of a loss. 
> 
> also i guess i should say that past derek/isaac is mentioned, and derek/stiles is an eventual side pairing. their ages are specified and he is indeed over eighteen while the other characters are under eighteen. nothing explicit happens so i don't think it technically falls under the underage category, but if age difference and/or underage is something that bothers you please turn back now. 
> 
> and last but not least i owe a huge supermassive thank you to my wonderful and amazing beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf). he is incredible and every single edit or correction he made to this fic changed it for the better. he refines my messy chaos into perfection. without him, i'm nothing! plus, he's a fucking beast who conquered this fic even tho he's never even seen teen wolf lol. i owe him my life and would willingly die for him. thank you subwaywolf!

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

Isaac’s pale blue eyes followed the lines of the lobby, taking in the clean linoleum tile and the set of chairs that lined the wall. He’d never had a pet before, so he’d never been in a veterinary clinic. It looked kind of like a doctor’s office. On one wall there was a bulletin board stuck full of pictures, letters, and cards; dogs in casts smiling, hand-written notes thanking the vet for his help, even Christmas cards for some reason.  
  
“This is Doctor Deaton,” the Sheriff explained, hand firm on Isaac’s shoulder. “And the other vet tech you’ll be working with, Scott McCall.”  
  
Isaac had been sort of avoiding their gazes, but now he glanced between them. Deaton was an older black man, sturdy and solid with a smooth, bald head. He seemed unassuming at best. Scott, he recognized from school; brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin. They were in the same chemistry class. They might have even been in detention together once or twice. Isaac was only a few inches taller than both of them, but he felt like he was too tall; lanky and long-limbed and wrong. He fought the urge to hunch his shoulders and make himself smaller.  
  
“Hi,” Isaac managed quietly, feeling uncomfortable with all eyes on him.  
  
“It’s nice to meet you, Isaac.” Deaton shook his hand, radiating serene confidence. “I’m sure you’ll get along nicely here.”  
  
Isaac hoped so, because the only other option open in the employment program was the grocery store and he really didn’t want to bag groceries. It was bad enough that he had to do this whole work program at all. It wasn’t that he minded having a job. He was fine with working. In fact, he was used to hard manual labor – he’d been forced to literally dig graves before this, all his spare time taken up by topsoil and fresh-gleaming caskets.  
  
The conditions that came with living in a group home meant he had to have a job. Not any job, though. He had to work with a pre-approved employer, had to have his time cards signed and turned over to prove his whereabouts, and worst of all he didn’t even get to keep his paycheck. It was all being put into a monitored bank account. He would get access to it when he turned eighteen. He got an allowance in the meantime, like he was a little kid. Isaac knew, logically, that it would be nice to have money squared away for his future but right now he wasn’t happy about any of this.  
  
“Scott, why don’t you give Isaac the tour while I go over some things with the sheriff?” Deaton suggested.  
  
The sheriff squeezed Isaac’s shoulder reassuringly before letting go. He was an ambassador for the work program and had taken time out of his busy schedule to be here for this.  
  
“Sure.” Scott’s sudden smile was so warm and welcoming that Isaac didn’t mind going with him.  
  
He followed Scott through the lobby to a back hall and fell in step behind him as he started pointing things out. The exam rooms, the storage room, the file room, the break room and staff bathroom, the cat cages, the dog kennels, a broom closet, the door to the parking lot out back.  
  
They looped back around to the exam room and Scott took him inside, showing him all the things that were readily visible. The exam table, the cabinets and all the supplies in them, the latex gloves, the cotton swabs, the cotton balls in a jar. He trailed off thoughtfully, glancing around himself.  
  
Scott looked at Isaac, not sure what else to show him. “So, uhm...You, uh...”  
  
Isaac braced for the questions that were sure to come. _Weren’t you that kid who went to juvie? Why did you get expelled from your old school? Did you really steal a car? Why was your dad was arrested?_  
  
“You ever work with animals before?” Scott asked instead, much to Isaac’s relief.  
  
“Dead ones.” He muttered morbidly, carding his fingers through his own curly, blonde hair. Some people seriously wanted to bury Fluffy in the family plot.  
  
“Oh. Well, we get those too sometimes,” Scott said, a little sadly. “But thankfully most of the pets that come in are alive and well.” He skipped right along to happier things. “Cats and dogs, but sometimes, like, birds and hamsters and stuff too. Once some guy even brought in a boa. It was pretty cool.”  
  
Isaac nodded.  
  
He didn’t really know that much about Scott. They had seen each other in school but had never spoken before. Isaac had been in a different school district up until he was expelled at the end of his freshman year. He’d shown up at Beach Hills High School at the start of tenth grade. All the other students there had been in the same classes since kindergarten; they knew everything about each other. Friendships had formed long before he arrived on campus.  
  
If he wasn’t mistaken, Scott was kind of a nobody. Not that Isaac was one to talk. He wasn’t sure what his reputation was, but it couldn’t be good. People avoided him in the halls and at lunch. They whispered about him when they thought he wasn’t listening. Underclassmen actively feared him like he was dangerous or something. When people did talk to him, they asked him questions he didn’t want to answer.  
  
Except Scott. Scott hadn’t asked him any questions about his past. Whether he was a nobody or not, he seemed nice enough. He would be easy to work with.  
  
Doctor Deaton came back to join them. He explained to Isaac about what his duties would be, and what would be expected of him while he was here. Since he was new and inexperienced he wouldn’t be working with animals, he’d be cleaning and helping to keep the place running. Deaton seemed like a pretty reasonable guy. Isaac’s only comparison for a boss was his own father who had worked him to the bone at the graveyard. The vet clinic would be a nice change of pace.  
  
He set Isaac to work, showing him how to clean out the kennels and cages, which non-toxic supplies to use and how to fill up the food and water bowls. Together with Scott, he started on the cat cages. The cats were allowed out in turns as their cages were cleaned. As soon as they set two loose in the cage room, the cats twined around Isaac’s feet, nuzzling his ankles and wandering the tiled floor.  
  
Scott made easy conversation. He told some story about a woman who had trapped a tarantula she found in her garden and then brought it in to them. She thought it was someone’s pet that had gotten loose and wanted to turn it in. But, no, it was a wild tarantula.  
  
“So then,” Scott said, lifting the orange cat from the floor and putting him back inside his now sparkling cage. “I had to follow her back to her house so that we could rerelease the tarantula in the wild, like, back in its natural habitat.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” Isaac said, nodding.  
  
“Dude. Taking the lid off that box was the scariest moment of my life.” Scott continued. “I didn’t think I was afraid of spiders, but this thing was fricken huge and I kept thinking it was gonna jump out at me!”  
  
“What happened?” Isaac asked, pausing in his work.  
  
“Nothing,” Scott laughed. He had an easy laugh. “The tarantula wouldn’t come out. I tapped on the box and stuff, but it was just chilling in there.”  
  
Isaac almost felt like laughing too. Almost. He made a face instead. “That’s a terrible story. Nothing happened.”  
  
Scott didn’t have the good sense to be offended he just beamed happily. “Well, still, it was terrifying at the time so it’s the most exciting story about working here I’ve got!”  
  
When they were done, they moved on to the dog kennels. After that, Scott showed him how to mix up the right chemicals to mop the floors. Isaac got a good look at the broom closet where they kept the mop bucket, bottles of cleaning supplies, and a few dusty brooms. There was barely any light inside, and just enough space to fit everything. Isaac’s heart beat faster just from looking at it.  
  
At the end of the night Deaton pulled Isaac aside.  
  
“Isaac, I just want to let you know I’m very happy to have you here as part of my staff,” he said.  
  
His tone wasn’t condescending per se, but the sentiment behind his words kind of was. It was like he was congratulating himself on being charitable and gracious, for helping poor, unfortunate, troubled youths like Isaac.  _Oh, I’m so happy I could help someone as broken and fucked up as you._ Everyone from the volunteers at the group home to the correctional guards at juvie to his new boss thought they were saviors.  
  
“I also want to let you know,” Deaton continued, “that we keep our drugs locked up tight, and well-inventoried.”  
  
Isaac’s ears burned. He wasn’t going to steal any fucking drugs, animal tranquilizers or otherwise. “Yes, sir,” he said, looking down at the floor.  
  
“The sheriff and I trust you,” Doctor Deaton told him. “We wouldn’t allow you to work here if we didn’t. Please don’t abuse that trust.”  
  
If someone makes a point of saying ‘I trust you’ like that, it usually means they don’t. Isaac tried not to let it get to him. He knew he had a record. He knew Deaton’s concern wasn’t entirely unfounded. It was his own fault for making dumb mistakes in the past. Now he had to live with the consequences, and apparently those consequences included speeches from his new boss that made him feel like complete shit.  
  
Isaac left work with a lump in his throat. He solemnly made his way towards the bus stop, trying not to beat himself up over stupid past mistakes. It was hard not to do.  
  
Scott’s voice broke his cycle of self-recriminating thoughts.  
  
“Hey, wait up!”  
  
Scott came up to him at a brisk pace, walking his bike alongside him. Either the fast walk or the cool night air was enough to start him wheezing. He took an inhaler out of his pocket. Isaac paused to watch as he shook it up and breathed in a puff of medicine. A few long, deep breaths followed. “Want to walk home together?” Scott asked him breathlessly as soon as he could manage words.  
  
_Not really_ , Isaac thought. If Scott didn’t already know that he lived in a group home, he didn’t exactly want to advertise it. Besides, he had to catch a bus to get there, he wasn’t walking.  
  
“I’m just headed to the bus stop,” Isaac said, nodding over his shoulder to the right.  
  
“Cool! I’ll come with you.” Scott smiled. “My house is in that direction.”  
  
“You don’t have to.” Isaac gave him an out, but Scott ignored it and started along the sidewalk. They had to walk in the same direction. It would be awkward to linger behind or try and speedwalk ahead. Isaac decided just to walk with him.  
  
It was cool out, but not cold, and the early fall breeze that came rustling down the sidewalk felt refreshingly brisk. The animal clinic was close to other businesses, but not that close. The main road was relatively quiet this time of night. The noises of their shoes on the pavement, and the soft clicking of bike wheels were the only sounds.  
  
“After work sometimes, me and my friend Stiles play video games together. If you’ve got Xbox Live you could play some multiplayers with us.” Scott offered after a minute of comfortable silence.  
  
“I don’t have an Xbox,” Isaac replied. He didn’t even have a real home, or his own room. Video game consoles were out of the question.  
  
“Oh.” Scott seemed a little sad that his attempt at friendship had failed. It made Isaac feel bad. He was used to being an asshole, and having people be assholes right back. Scott was different.  
  
“Thanks for offering,” Isaac tried, hoping to alleviate the situation somehow. He glanced away, muttering in the opposite direction, hoping Scott wouldn’t hear him as he continued to speak. “I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me. You don’t have to be.”  
  
They passed in front of an empty lot. A chain link fence walled it off from the sidewalk. A realty sign clipped to the fence advertised an office building coming soon. Isaac looked at it as they passed by. He read the words with interest, distracting himself so he wouldn’t have to look Scott in the eye.  
  
“Listen, I know some kids at school say things about you,” Scott said.  
  
Isaac felt something icy cool in his guts. He dreaded what might follow a sentence like that.  
  
Scott surprised him. “But, dude, I don’t care about anything anybody else says. You were cool to work with, and if you want to hang out we can. That’s all.”  
  
Isaac was actually a little moved by how genuine he seemed. He chanced a glance at Scott. Scott looked at him too. There was a hopeful expression in his big, brown eyes. God, he was so cute.  
  
Isaac knew, then, that this was going to be a disaster. He was going to fall head over heels for this lovable idiot like the last tall, dark, and handsome guy who had walked into his life. It was going to be one big mess.  
  
He should put a stop to it now before he developed a crush. He should keep being an asshole until he pushed Scott away. He should take the job at the grocery store, so they wouldn’t have to work together. He should scrub Scott and his sweet smile from his mind entirely and never think of him again. Ugh, but those _eyes_. That look of hope on his face. How could Isaac say no to him?  
  
He smiled despite himself, fully aware that he would regret what he was about to say. “Yeah, we could hang out sometime.”  
  
Scott lit up. “Awesome!”  
  
They reached the bus shelter. There was no one else around. Scott leaned his bike against the side and went to sit on the bench with Isaac, waiting for the bus to come.  
  
“You can head home if you want, it’s gonna be another ten minutes before it gets here,” Isaac said.  
  
“That’s okay.” Scott settled in. “We can sit. My mom’s working the night shift anyway, so she’s not waiting up or anything.”  
  
Ah, well. Isaac’s own mom was dead, so it wasn’t like she was waiting up for him either. He was extremely tempted to say that out loud, but there was no reason to sour the mood.  
  
After a moment, Scott took out his phone. “Want to play Duel Otters?” he asked.  
  
“What’s Duel Otters?”  
  
“Here, I’ll show you!”  
  
He opened a gaming app that Isaac had never seen before. Then again, he couldn’t afford anything better than his old, busted up, keypad Motorola phone. He wasn’t really aware of the latest apps or games.  
  
Duel Otters turned out to be a split-screen, two-player game with cute drawings and fun, circusy music. Scott was competitive but not very good, and Isaac had never played any of the mini games before so they both won and lost equally. It was probably meant to be played on something bigger, like an iPad. Their hands touched where they both held on to Scott’s phone. Their heads nearly came together where they were bowed over the screen. It was almost a shame to pull away when the bus came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://fuckyeahisaacscott.tumblr.com/post/83137245868/jandjob-teen-wolf-deleted-scene-scott-and))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags have been updated to include: ptsd, anxiety attacks, and three new characters (marin, bennett, meredith)
> 
> in this chapter bennett refers to [this hunter](http://www.teenwolfwiki.com/Bennett), a friend of the argents. as i was working on this fic i thought "oh, bennett's only gonna be in one scene, i can use an extremely minor character" except he accidentally shows up again and again? and i couldn't think of who else to replace him with? 
> 
> also, thanks again to my beautiful beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf) for all his hard work on this fic. he's got the magic touch. he turns all my fanfic to gold!

“So, how do you like your new job?” Marin asked him the next day.  
  
Isaac shrugged. He hated talking to Marin. He didn’t have a good reason to dislike her, she was fine as far as counselors went, so he came up with dumb reasons instead. Today, it was because she was too pretty. Sleek black hair, perfect spidery lashes, a soft face that carried make-up well. She should be off modeling in Milan, not grilling him with questions.  
  
“It’s fine,” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.  
  
Marin Morrell was the French teacher as well as the school counselor. Her office was adjacent to her classroom. Her desk was organized neatly with stacks of papers to grade in one corner. Its only personalization was a rather impersonal miniature of the Eiffel Tower.  
  
“Tell me how your first day went yesterday,” she suggested.  
  
Isaac didn’t want to. He didn’t want to talk to her at all. “It was great. My new boss told me all about how he didn’t trust me around the drugs they keep on site.” In fact, Deaton had said the exact opposite, but his meaning was perfectly clear.  
  
“I’ve known Alan Deaton for a long time,” Marin ventured to say. “That doesn’t sound like him.”  
  
Isaac shrugged. “Whatever, it’s what he meant.”  
  
He hated counseling. It was barely a step down from therapy and he had hated that too. He didn’t like talking about himself, and he really didn’t like talking about his problems. He was always worried if he said too much, they would cart him off to Eichen House; lock him up and throw away the key.  
  
Counseling was a condition of staying in the group home, otherwise he wouldn’t be here. He had to have a job, he had to go to school, and he had to go to counseling. Marin said some helpful things every once in a while, but it wasn’t worth the bullshit to get her two bits of advice.  
  
Isaac hated that she knew everything about him, every little detail. Not because he had told her, but because she had read it in his file. It didn’t seem fair to him. He should be allowed to pick and choose which people got to know about him, and his life, and the things he’d done. They should hear it from his own mouth, not get the information second hand off pages and papers.  
  
The sheriff knew all about him, too. Of course he did. He was the arresting officer both times Isaac had been brought in, but more than that he had access to Isaac’s criminal record and all the records of domestic disputes at the Lahey home. Doctor Deaton seemed to know about him too. Enough to warn him against potentially stealing drugs.  
  
That was three people who knew too much about him. And what did he know about them in return? Next to nothing. Until just now he didn’t even know that Marin and Doctor Deaton were aware of each other. It wasn’t fair. His past, his mistakes, and all his scars were bared to these people without his choice, without anything given in exchange.  
  
It wasn’t like they were using any of his information against him, but they could if they wanted to. Isaac wouldn’t be surprised. His dad used to do things like that, and worse.  
  
God, his dad...  
  
Marin’s office felt suddenly too small. The walls were too close. Isaac looked to her, tempted to tell her this, but he realized she was speaking. Some long diatribe about trust and understanding and personal growth. Isaac had missed most of it.  
  
He wondered what he could say to move their session along. He didn’t want to talk about work anymore, or ever. He didn’t want to accidentally mention Scott. If he did, Marin would probably go off on him about relationships, and without a doubt his father’s homophobia would end up being discussed. Isaac just didn’t want to deal with that conversation, now or in the future.  
  
He needed a different topic. Something suitably painful from his past to bring up, but something less painful than most of his childhood. If he dug too deep he might upset himself.  
  
“Camden would believe me. He would never accuse me of stealing drugs from the animal clinic.” He muttered, talking over her. “He always had my back.”  
  
Marin quieted for a moment. “Do you want to talk about your brother?” she asked.  
  
No. He didn’t. But he had more practice at dancing around this particular subject than any others. He could bullshit for the next half hour until the session was done.

 

* * *

 

Bennett, one of the group home supervisors that Isaac hated the least, glanced up from his phone as Isaac came in through the back door. Bennett was a younger black guy with short-cut black hair, perpetually wearing jeans and a track jacket. He sat in the kitchen, relaxing in one of the many chairs at the long dining table.  
  
“Hey, how’d counseling go?” he asked casually, drawing Isaac over to him.  
  
“Good,” Isaac lied, because that’s what the staff liked to hear.  
  
Bennett wasn’t all that bad. A lot of the supervisors who worked at the group home had an absolutely obnoxious attitude that drove Isaac nuts. They tried too damn hard to seem relatable. Sure, they were all middle-aged men and women with college degrees in child care, but they were _just like you_! They could reference a few bits of modern slang, or a song currently popular on the top 40 countdown, so obviously they were hip and in-the-know. It was insufferable.  
  
Bennett actually was closer in age to most of the kids here than the rest of the staff. He didn’t pretend to relate to them, not in meaningless ways, at least. “Are you coming grocery shopping?” he asked.  
  
Isaac grimaced. He’d rather not. “I don’t think so.”  
  
“It’s your turn to cook tomorrow.”  
  
Fuck. He’d forgotten. He was still getting used to the schedule.  
  
“Oh… I should probably come then.”  
  
“We’ll leave in fifteen minutes.” Bennett smiled and turned back to his phone in the meantime.  
  
The group home was well-organized. Staff and residents took turns cooking meals. Chores were divided evenly amongst everybody. Isaac was allowed to come and go as he pleased. He didn’t have to stay for dinner, unless he was making it. As long as his room was clean, and he was back by ten, he could go wherever he wanted. In fact, they expected him to be gone half the time because of school and his job.  
  
There were regular trips to the grocery store, and special trips out to the movies or the pool in the summer. Isaac hadn’t been staying there long enough to go on either of those, and he wasn’t really looking forward to it when they happened. He preferred the solitude of his room to going out anywhere. Well, relative solitude. He did have a roommate named Noah.  
  
Isaac didn’t know what he was going to cook for everyone. He wasn’t really good at cooking. He went to the cabinet above the stove and pulled down the recipe book they kept there. There would be a mutiny if the house had to eat spaghetti again for another night. Spaghetti was easy to make, so it was the go-to option for most of the residents. They had it at least three times a week.  
  
He leafed through the book looking for something else. He unsnapped the bindings and took out a page for lemon rice soup with chicken. Soup was easy, right? Recipe card in hand, he sat at the kitchen table and waited until it was time to go.  
  
Two other residents, Meredith and Malia, came down to join them on the grocery trip. Even though it was just the four of them, they all had to pile into a big, obnoxious white van with _Beacon Hills New Beginnings_  decaled on the side. It practically screamed ‘ _Look at us! We’re the town fuck ups! We have no families, no future, and no hope!’_ Isaac didn’t like riding around in it if he didn’t have to, and he really didn’t like the stares they got from people in the parking lot when they piled out at the grocery store.  
  
Although technically they could roam the store if they wanted to, Bennett asked them to stick close and help him with the shopping list. The four of them took up almost an entire aisle when they were in one, and Bennett set an obnoxiously leisurely pace. Isaac tried to focus on the recipe card and the items he needed but it was hard. He felt like all the little old ladies pushing carts past them were judging their little group.   
  
“Hey, Isaac!”  
  
Isaac’s head snapped up from where he was looking at cans of chicken stock. Scott was at the end of the aisle waving at him, smiling.  
  
Isaac stood still, not sure what to do. It took him a second, but he waved back, a single swipe of his hand in the air. He caught Meredith’s eyes from where she was standing next to him. She was giving him a weird look, but then again, she always had a weird look on her face.  
  
“You can go say hi to your friend,” Bennett allowed distractedly, continuing on down the aisle in the other direction.  
  
Isaac hesitated, but he really wanted to get away from Meredith’s prying eyes, so he wandered towards Scott anyway.   
  
“Hey,” he said quietly.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Scott asked, all excited and happy to see him.  
  
Isaac stared at him for a moment. “Grocery shopping,” he said pointedly.  
  
“Oh, of course, duh.” Scott laughed at himself. “This is so weird, I was just talking about you!”  
  
“You were?” Isaac wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  
  
“Yeah, I was telling my mom that you were working at the clinic now and how glad I was to have someone to talk to while cleaning the cages. Someone other than Deaton, I mean. He’s nice and all but he’s, like, my boss.”  
  
Isaac was momentarily surprised to hear that Scott had been saying nice things about him. It shouldn’t be a surprised at this point, but he just wasn’t used to people being nice to him.  
  
“Do you want to meet her?” Scott asked hopefully.  
  
“Your mom?”  
  
“Yeah!” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the registers. “She’s right over there.”  
  
Isaac caught sight of her at once. She was easy to spot, standing at the end of a checkout line with a cart full of groceries. She was wearing mauve colored nurse’s scrubs, and when she glanced over at her son, Isaac saw her face. He recognized her instantly. It felt like being punched in the stomach to see her outside of the hospital.  
  
“I-“ Isaac’s voice completely failed him and he fought the sudden urge to throw up. “I have to go.” He managed, just barely, stumbling past Scott straight for the double set of automatic exit doors.  
  
He thought he heard Scott’s voice behind him calling out to him or possibly saying goodbye. He didn’t know. Blood was roaring in Isaac’s ears and he suddenly wasn’t sure he’d heard anything at all. The aisles were too close. The ceiling was too low, pushing down on him, coming towards him. The store was too small. Panic, cold and cruel, coiled in his stomach. It was too small in here. This store was too fucking small.  
  
Isaac bolted out the front door, into the parking lot. The early evening sky stretched over his head. The relief of having no walls and no ceiling was almost dizzying. The cool night air punched breath back into his lungs. He wandered away from the building, away from the cars, seeking as open a space as possible.  
  
He knew he couldn’t stay out here. Not for long. Someone would come looking for him. He couldn’t cry either. Bennett would ask why his eyes were red. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t. He was just going to catch his breath, steady himself, and calm down.  
  
If anyone found out he was out in the parking lot, he might get in trouble. The thought of getting in trouble, and any subsequent punishment, didn’t help calm him down. He closed his eyes and focused on the breeze. He cleared his head. He reminded himself again and again that he was safe.  
  
When Isaac returned, stumbling blindly into the bright light of the grocery store, it was a full fifteen minutes later, maybe longer. He was feeling anxious about the tight space between the aisles, but he had to get back to the others. He grabbed a half gallon of milk he neither wanted nor needed just to steady his trembling hands.  
  
Thankfully, when he reconnected with Bennett and his housemates, none of them accused him of being gone too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://kookhunts.tumblr.com/post/132627729381/bianca-lawson-gif-hunt-under-the-cut-youll))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags have been updated to include: suicidal thoughts, and past/referenced derek/isaac and referenced allison/scott
> 
> thank you to my wonderful beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf)! i cherish every email he sends, every edit he makes, every comma he corrects.

“Hey, can I ask you kind of a weird question?” Scott asked, stocking the cabinet with bandages.  
  
Isaac grimaced. He could guess what kind of question it might be. _Who were those people at the store with you the other night? Do you really live in a group home? Why did you run off all of a sudden?_  Hopefully Scott wouldn’t actually ask something like that. He had been so good at not prying into Isaac’s personal life thus far, he wasn’t going to start now. Was he?  
  
“Sure,” Isaac allowed, hoping for Scott to meet his expectations.  
  
“Do you have a girlfriend?”  
  
Isaac wondered, fleetingly, if Scott was hitting on him but that couldn’t possibly be the case. Could it? “No,” He said aloud, both to himself and as an answer to Scott’s question.  
  
“Oh,” Scott nodded. “Cause, like, neither does my best friend and I have this thing going on with the girl I like, and it’s really complicated, and I don’t know who to ask about it.”  
  
Scott was either crazy or desperate to be coming to Isaac of all people for relationship advice. They barely knew each other, and so there was no way for him to know that Isaac’s first and only relationship had been a complete and utter fucking disaster.  
  
He’d fallen for a guy, which was bad enough considering how homophobic his father was. It wasn’t just any guy, though. It was a guy who was five years older than him. A guy who pitied and humored him. Looking back on it made Isaac cringe. He’d been so desperate, so pathetic, so stupid in love with Derek Hale.  
  
They had met in the cemetery of all places. They would spend Isaac’s breaks together, staring out at the grave stones. They both had family to mourn and they were both so fucking miserable. It was nice at first, to sit side by side, shoulders and thighs touching. Derek never said anything, just listened when Isaac confessed all his deep dark secrets. He talked about how he was afraid of his dad, how he wanted to die, how he wished Derek would sweep him up in his black Camaro and drive him far, far away.  
  
Isaac swallowed thickly, very much in need of a distraction from his own thoughts. “You can ask me.” He said all at once. “I don’t know if I’ll be much help but, whatever, you can ask.”  
  
Scott beamed up at him and started in. “Okay, her name is Allison.”  
  
That was how Isaac spent the rest of his shift listening to Scott drone on and on about Allison. Allison with her pretty brown eyes like chocolate and honey. Allison with her perfect smile and cute dimples and the most beautiful face Scott had ever seen. Allison and her gorgeous hair all soft and wavy and dark. Allison, Allison, Allison.  
  
As far as distractions went, it was a decent one. Isaac soon knew more about this girl than he ever wanted to. Apparently, she’d gone to Beacon Hills High School last year. Isaac may or may not have seen her in the halls. He didn’t remember, and he didn’t care.   
  
She and Scott had gone on a few dates. This included a double date at the bowling alley that Scott recounted for him in exact detail, down to the final score and the colors of the bowling balls. They also spent her birthday wandering the preserve. Isaac got to hear about every single thing they did that day including the utterly unimportant things like the leaves and rocks they saw in between all the kissing and cuddling out in the woods.  
  
It didn’t seem like there was much of a problem to him. In fact, it sounded like a perfect relationship. It wasn’t until he and Scott had stocked all the cabinets, cleaned out the kennels, and mopped all the floors that they got to the issue at hand. Allison’s family moved a lot. She never stayed in one town for very long, and her stint in Beacon Hills had only lasted a year. She was now living four hours away in southern California.  
  
“I mean, we still text and send each other snaps and we talk on the phone a lot. We’re not, like, dating anymore because she lives so far away but it still feels like she’s my girlfriend.” Scott explained everything mournfully, tipping the dirty mop water into the drain.  
  
“Uh-huh,” Isaac said as he readied a cloth to clean out the sink after. It was the only thing he’d said all night.  
  
“I miss her like crazy, I just don’t know if this is a good idea. I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. I don’t want to stop talking to her, but a clean break might be easier. Not that I want there to be a break at all.”  
  
God, this is what normal teenagers had to worry about? “Uh-huh,” Isaac said again.  
  
Scott set the empty mop bucket back down on the ground. “So, what do you think I should do?”  
  
“Uh-huh,” Isaac moved in with a wet rag to wipe the grime out of the sink. It took him a second to realize he’d been asked an actual question and he backtracked, trying to remember the last thing that was said. “Oh, uh-“  
  
When he looked up at Scott he found the biggest, softest, most hopeful puppy dog expression on his face. It was impossibly adorable. He was probably hoping Isaac would back him up, support his relationship with Allison even from afar, and tell him not to give up because of a little distance.  
  
“Don’t give up because of a little distance,” Isaac said flatly.  
  
Scott’s hopeful expression somehow became even softer, even sweeter, even more hopeful. “You think we could make it work?”  
  
“Sure,” Isaac said, unwilling to identify the odd ache in his chest. He wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t heartbroken that Scott was taken. He wasn’t falling for this kid. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He won’t.

 

* * *

 

They were allowed to put posters up in their rooms, but Isaac didn’t bother. He wasn’t sure he liked anything enough to mount it on his wall. Some residents brought blankets from home, or their favorite pillow. He had the same blue sheets and comforter on his bed that came with the room. It was a comfortable bed, at least. Better than the one he had when he lived with his dad, and definitely better than the cots at the juvenile detention center he’d been in for four months.  
  
Comfortable as the bed was, he still found himself lying awake most nights. He would lay on his side, staring across the room to his roommate Noah’s bed. Noah always slept with his back to Isaac. He had a poster on his wall of that Nirvana album cover with the baby swimming in the water. Isaac and that stupid baby spent countless hours up at night looking at one another.  
  
Usually thoughts of his dad kept him awake. The threat of the looming sentencing hearing never failed to put a knot in his stomach. Isaac dreaded going back to court. He knew it wouldn’t be anything like the trial. He would still have to go up on the stand and give a statement, but he wouldn’t have to be questioned or cross-examined.  
  
Still, the memory of telling the lawyers and the judge and everyone else in the court room all the things his father had done to him made him sick. Not to mention how it was so hard to see his dad in person, to see the look of measured disappointment on his face. The look that made Isaac want to run for his life.  
  
Memories often haunted him at night and kept him awake. Oddly enough, it wasn’t the bad ones. Most of those were repressed so far down, so deep that they only surfaced during anxiety attacks and nightmares.  
  
It was the good memories that hurt him. The framed wedding picture of his mother and father that used to sit on the fireplace mantle, both of them smiling at the camera. The parties in the backyard at his old house, full of teenagers from the swim team who laughed, played loud music, threw each other in the pool, and ignored Isaac as he weaved through their legs and stayed up way past his bed time. Camden loading him into the pick-up and driving him miles away from home when their father was in an angry mood, eating fast food and ice cream in the car.  
  
God, he fucking missed Cam.  
  
Isaac had lost both his mother and his brother. His mom had died when he was a baby. He didn’t know her, so it didn’t hurt that she was gone. Camden, though. Cam had been his everything. His protector, his best friend, his fucking hero. It hurt like hell to lose him. Camden just had to go off to Iraq and die there. Their dad was never the same after Cam’s death. Things were never good, but they got bad when Cam left for the military, and worse when he never came home.  
  
Isaac brushed tears from his eyes, staring at the Nirvana baby. He didn’t want to cry. He tried to think of better things. Scott came to his mind, unprompted. He thought of the night they ran into each other at the store.  
  
Isaac wondered if Scott’s mom had ever talked about him. There was supposed to be a doctor-patient confidentiality thing, but who knows. She probably went home and discussed work at the dinner table like everyone else. Had she mentioned the kid in Scott’s grade she had taken care of that one time? Did Scott already know all about it; did he already know all of Isaac’s secrets?  
  
Maybe that was why he never asked any questions. Either that or he was a genuinely nice guy with the smart sense to actually respect other people’s privacy. Were there people still like that in the world? Isaac wanted to think so. He wanted to believe in Scott so badly.  
  
Scott’s bright grin. His cute face. He was so soft and kind and _good_. So good, that he actually had Isaac considering that the world might not be an entirely rotten place.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, my turn.” Isaac pulled another stack of files towards him. He picked up the staple remover and started pulling staples from the documents in the first file. His eyes grazed leisurely over the details of a Welsh Corgi named Bitsy who had come in for a dental procedure in 2006. “I get to ask you a weird question.”  
  
“Huh?” Scott looked away from the computer screen.  
  
They were scanning all the hard copies of Doctor Deaton’s patient files, converting them to a digital database. It was just a side project they worked on when all their other tasks were done. Pretty boring, really. Open a file, pull out the staples and take away any paperclips, run the documents and forms through a scanner, name the files on the computer, repeat.  
  
“You know, last week, you wanted to ask me a weird question and then asked if I had a girlfriend?” Isaac reminded him, pulling more staples out.  
  
Scott sent another document through the scanner. The rollers whirred softly as the papers went through. “Sure, I remember.”  
  
Isaac didn’t really like the file room. It was a little cramped. There were no windows, and the far wall was stacked floor to ceiling with files, cutting into the square footage of the room, making it even smaller. He was okay so long as Scott was in there with him.  
  
“Ask me anything.” Scott grinned. He was ready for it.  
  
Isaac had to laugh, because that grin just made his question all the more relevant. “Are you always so happy all the time?”    
  
“What?” Scott scrunched his nose. “I’m not happy all the time. Sometimes I get, like, really, really mad.” That might have been true but when he said it he sounded about as angry as a kitten.  
  
“Yeah? What do you have to be mad about?” Isaac asked him, passing up another stack of papers.  
  
“Stuff,” Scott told him, a little defensively. “The girl I like lives, like, four fricken hours away and that makes me mad.”  
  
Oh, of course, Allison. Isaac should have guessed. If only he had said fuck instead of frick, Isaac might believe his anger a little more. Though, apparently Scott wasn’t done.  
  
“I’m trying to take an intro to Biology class as an elective this year and if I don’t pass it, I can’t take AP Biology next year. If I can’t take AP Biology, I’m never going to get into a good school to become a vet.”  
  
That was more something to be worried about than angry about, and Isaac opened his mouth to say as much but Scott was on a roll now. There was no stopping him.  
  
“I’ve been playing lacrosse for two whole years and I’ve never made it off the bench, which really sucks, because I can actually play. That makes me mad.” To his credit, he sounded a little more forceful there.  
  
“Don’t you have asthma?” Isaac asked, finally getting a word in edgewise.  
  
“And my dad makes me mad.” Scott told him with finality, ignoring the asthma comment.  
  
Isaac raised an eyebrow. “Why, what’d he do?”  
  
Scott quieted a little. He stared ahead at the computer screen. “Left me and my mom.”  
  
Ah. Touchy subject. Isaac may have been an asshole, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. He wasn’t going to compare sticks when it came to trauma. Divorce was hard on a lot of people. It was clearly hard on Scott. He could sympathize. He was just about say that he was sorry for bringing it up, but Scott had more.  
  
“It’s not just that he forgets my birthday or never comes to lacrosse games. Whatever. Who cares. It’s the way he treats my mom. I can tell whenever he’s called because she gets all angry and hurt, or sometimes I catch her crying and trying to hide it. I hate it.” Scott’s jaw, normally charming in its slight crookedness, was clenched tight. His hand was a fist at his thigh.  
  
Isaac felt bad for bringing this up. It had been a dumb line of questioning. He should have known better. He reached out, putting his hand over Scott’s fist, not wanting to see such an angry gesture on someone so kind and sweet. “I get it,” he said, calmly. He really did. He understood the woes of a terrible father more than most.  
  
Scott breathed a sigh.  
  
Isaac pulled his hand away and went back to taking out staples. He worked the rest of the way through Bitsy’s file, right up until her last flea and tick treatment earlier in the year. When he turned to give the papers to Scott, he found Scott quickly glancing away from him like he’d been caught staring.  
  
“What?” Isaac asked  
  
“Nothing,” Scott replied, innocently. A little _too_  innocently.  
  
“You want to ask about him, don’t you?” Isaac guessed.  
  
Scott hesitated. “Who?”  
  
“My dad.”  
  
For some reason, Isaac didn’t mind the curiosity. Scott wasn’t actually prying. He hadn’t even asked a question yet. They were just talking about themselves and each other and their asshole dads. It felt okay to open up a little.  
  
“Whatever you’ve heard, it’s true,” Isaac said, jumping ahead to the foregone conclusion of the conversation.  
  
Scott looked suddenly very sad. He was quiet for a long moment, possibly searching for the right words to say. “Isaac... okay, this is gonna sound really lame and dumb, but can I hug you?”  
  
“...Huh?”  
  
“Can I hug you?” Scott asked again.  
  
Isaac felt his ears burn with a pink flush. “Uh, sure I guess.”  
  
Scott moved from the computer chair and down to the file room floor where Isaac was camped out, pulling staples. He wrapped his arms around Isaac’s middle. He was shorter, so his cheek ended up pressed to Isaac’s shoulder. They slotted together so easily.  
  
“This might be messed up to say, but I know he was arrested and I’m glad he’s in jail. I’m glad he can’t hurt you,” Scott told him before giving Isaac a big squeeze.  
  
Isaac couldn’t remember the last time anyone had hugged him. He didn’t want to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter, isaac's roommate 'noah' refers to one of the virgin sacrifices; the lifeguard lydia finds dead at the pool. although everywhere else just refers to him as 'young man', [wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Teen_Wolf_characters) says his name is noah. i really amused myself with the fact that he's a lifeguard and he has a poster of a pool on his wall. 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags have been updated to include: hurt/comfort and one new character, stiles! yay stiles is here.
> 
> thank you to my incredible beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf)! i couldn't do this without him and quite frankly i don't want to.

Isaac stopped by his locker. He exchanged last night’s homework for the books he needed for his first few classes. There were two underclassmen across the hall giving him cautious glances, but he ignored them. Nothing about school could get him down.  
  
Beacon Hills High School wasn’t a walk in the park by any means, but it wasn’t all that bad either. Being expelled from his last school was probably good for him in the long run. Everyone there knew about his dead mother and brother and about his dad beating him. They didn’t even whisper about it, they talked about it openly and in his face, rubbing it in whenever they could. Kids were cruel. There were whispers about him at Beacon Hills High School too, but no one knew him well enough to know the truth.  
  
During lunch he sat alone, three seats down from Vernon Boyd, the other loner in his grade. Any closer, and someone might think they were buddies or something. They weren’t. They nodded at one another when Isaac sat down with his lunch tray, acknowledging each other and their loneliness, but that was the extent of their interactions.  
  
The whispers, the lack of friends, the eating alone; none of it mattered. Isaac was grateful for every day that he got to go to a real school with real teachers and real classrooms. The educational courses in juvie left a lot to be desired. Stapled-together paper packets of text book scans instead of actual books, volunteer teachers who barely understood the subjects they were supposed to be teaching, disruptive inmates who couldn’t care less about getting their GED. It was miserable trying to learn anything in that environment. Isaac didn’t even realize he gave a shit about school until it was taken away.  
  
Thankfully, his social worker made a deal with the high school. She brought in his coursework and assignments, and he took all his exams in juvie. He was able to turn everything in for a grade, even though he couldn’t attend classes. Without that, he never would have passed his sophomore year. Now he was a junior, over half way finished with his high school career, and he took it one day at a time.  
  
Isaac usually cut through the English department to get to his first class, but today he had an extra minute, so he took the long way. Other students took Beacon Hills High School and all its amenities for granted. Not Isaac. He was content just to walk the long, open hallways with their large rows of windows.  
  
“Hey Isaac!” Scott caught his attention and waved at him from down the hall.  
  
This wasn’t the first time Scott had acknowledged him at school since they had started working together. They saw each other in the halls sometimes. Not often, though. Their only shared class was chemistry, and in class Scott was too distracted by his best friend Stiles to even notice anyone else.  
  
Stiles Stilinski, the sheriff’s kid. Stiles with his grown-out brown buzzcut. Stiles with his flannel shirts and converse. Stiles with his loud mouth that ran a mile a minute, always interrupting teachers and asking inane question. Stiles, who was standing right next to Scott with a horrified look on his face. It may not be the first time that Scott had acknowledged Isaac, but it was the first time he’d done it in front of Stiles.  
  
Stiles snatched down his best friend’s arm. “Dude, what are you doing? Don’t draw Juvie Kid’s attention.” He probably thought he was being quiet. He wasn’t. “You want him to come over here and kill us?”  
  
Isaac pretended like he hadn’t seen them and quickly diverted his path into a side hallway, suddenly not wanting to go anywhere near Scott or Stiles. He leaned back against the wall and listened to their conversation. It was hard to hear over the shuffle of feet, voices of other students, and the opening and closing of lockers. He could make out just enough.  
  
“He’s nice,” Scott was saying, defending him.  
  
“Yeah, nice until he steals your car and wrecks it on the overpass!”  
  
Isaac winced. Of course, Stiles knew. If he hadn’t heard it as a rumor, he must have heard it from his father. Stiles probably knew all about the arrests and accidents around town. He probably knew about Isaac’s dad too; the domestic disputes, the abuse. He was just another asshole who knew all about Isaac, and what did Isaac know about Stiles in return? Who his dad was? That he drove a shitty stick-shift Jeep? Not enough. Next to nothing.  
  
“I don’t even have a car,” Scott replied.  
  
Isaac couldn’t see them. He didn’t want to risk ducking his head out to look at them and be caught listening. He had to imagine the confused expression that was probably on Scott’s face.  
  
“Yeah! Well I do!” Stiles announced loudly. “My Jeep is very precious to me, okay, so let’s not make friends with a car thief.”  
  
Scott’s voice was more subdued in comparison, so quiet he was almost hard to hear. “He’s not a car thief.”  
  
“He is,” Stiles continued. A locker closed. Their voices trailed off in the opposite direction; they were heading for class. “He was literally arrested for stealing a car. And selling drugs. Maybe it’s not his fault because his dad made him crazy, but you should definitely stay away from him.”  
  
God. So, Stiles knew everything. Why couldn’t he just fucking keep it to himself? Couldn’t Isaac have one nice thing? Just one? Just a single friend? Someone who actually wanted to wave to him and say hi to him and talk to him? Did every good thing in his life have to be ruined somehow?  
  
Scott was never going to talk to him again. Never going to walk him to his bus stop or wait with him until it came. Work was going to be awkward and miserable. Isaac closed his eyes tight, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He thumped his head back against the wall behind him. And then again. And again.  
  
He was wrong about nothing in school getting him down. This suitably defeated him, putting him in a sour mood for all his morning classes. He was dreading going to work later, and he hated it. He hated that seeing Scott again was the source of his anxiety when so often lately Scott was what made him feel good.  
  
Isaac didn’t even want to eat come lunch time. Instead of bothering with the long cafeteria lines he took his usual seat, head in his hands. He pulled a textbook out to pretend like he was studying so he didn’t look like a complete miserable loser sitting alone, wallowing in self-pity.  
  
“Isaac?” Scott’s voice came from nowhere.  
  
Isaac jerked his head up.  
  
He approached with a smile, backpack slung over one shoulder. “I didn’t know you were in this lunch period.”  
  
Scott was talking to him? Even after everything Stiles had said to him that morning? Isaac stared, dumbfounded for a second before realizing he should say something in reply. “Uh... I didn’t know you were either.”  
  
To be fair, half the high school had lunch during this period. The cafeteria was packed. It was hard to find one student in a sea of them. Isaac was usually still in line for food at this time, not sitting at one of the tables.  
  
“You should come sit with me and Stiles,” Scott suggested, voice full of earnest encouragement.  
  
Isaac raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”  
  
Scott frowned. “It wouldn’t?”  
  
“Yeah, I heard the two of you talking this morning.” Oh God, what the fuck was he saying? The words just came spilling out of him, a venomous tone emerging from nowhere. He couldn’t help himself. He was angry, and it was his default mode to be an asshole even when he wanted nothing more than to go groveling for attention and affection. “My dad made me crazy, right? You wouldn’t want a lunatic like me in your midst.”  
  
Scott let out a sudden frustrated noise, sounding angrier and more annoyed than anything Isaac had ever heard from him. “Stiles didn’t mean that.”  
  
Isaac was pretty sure he did. He didn’t have anything else to say, he just turned back to his text book. Scott sighed and left. The knot in Isaac’s stomach only twisted tighter.  
  
Less than ten minutes later, two trays full of food thunked down in front of him. Isaac looked up in confusion. Scott had Stiles by the collar of his shirt, clearly dragged there against his will.  
  
“So, uh. It’s been brought to my attention that I may or may not have said something this morning that you overheard...” Stiles began what was clearly a long, drawn out explanation for himself.  
  
“Stiles,” Scott said, a warning in his voice.  
  
Stiles very quickly cut to the chase. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know what I was saying. I don’t even know you. You’re probably totally normal.”  
  
“Very convincing,” Isaac said sarcastically.  
  
In truth, he was almost immediately won over by Scott bringing Stiles over to apologize. He felt the knot in his stomach loosen. This whole situation was a little weird, but... Scott still wanted to be his friend. He still wanted to talk to him and hang out with him and apparently eat lunch with him. That was all that mattered.  
  
“I’m sorry too,” Scott said, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. He sat, and Stiles sat next to him.  
  
Isaac couldn’t stay mad. Not really. Not when it came to Scott. “It’s okay.” He gave in, but then flashed a warning glance at Stiles in order to let him know that his acquiescence only went so far here.  
  
“And Stiles promises not to say anything else stupid,” Scott swore on his friend’s behalf.  
  
“What? No, he doesn’t. No, I don’t.” Stiles‘ eyes went cartoonishly wide. “Scott, are you kidding me? Do you even know me at all? That is... literally an impossible ask.”  
  
Scott gave him a look that said more than words ever could.  
  
Stiles sighed, slumping back in his chair in defeat. He looked across the table at Isaac and seemed to decide something. “Can I just ask one question?”  
  
“Do you have to?” Isaac fired back, cocking up his eyebrow.  
  
“Well, I mean, no.” Stiles floundered. “I’m still going to.”  
  
“Stiles,” Scott said again, less of a warning this time and more resigned regret.  
  
“Why a crappy 2002 pick-up truck?” God. He even knew the make and model of the car Isaac had taken. He had the nerve to bring it up again, the fucking asshole.  
  
Isaac narrowed his eyes, daring him to take this further.  
  
“I mean if you’re gonna steal a car, why a piece of shit like that? Why not Jackson Whittemore’s Porsche or something?”  
  
“I like piece of shit old cars,” Isaac lied. “I especially like driving stick shift.”  
  
Stiles blanched, and Isaac knew he’d hit the mark.  
  
“So, uh, did you guys finish the chemistry homework?” Scott cut in, laughing nervously at nothing.

 

* * *

 

“It was my brother’s truck,” Isaac said, leaning back against the Plexiglas of the bus shelter. The bus was running late.  
  
The light changed at the corner and the color of the sidewalk went from red to green. In the dark, the city was painted in black outlines. Yellow from the street lamps and the reflections of the colored stop light made the intersection glow like a Nicolas Winding Refn film.  
  
“Huh?” Scott glanced over at him.  
  
“The car I took. It was my brother’s truck.” Isaac glanced over at Scott too. His expression was full of concern. He was so sincere it hurt. Isaac had to look away to continue speaking. “I didn’t really steal it. I mean, it was sitting in our garage... I just took the keys from Cam’s room and drove off with it.”  
  
“Cam? That’s your brother?” Scott asked softly.  
  
“Yeah, Camden.” Isaac nodded. “He died in Iraq.” He was silent for a moment before he continued. “Things got so fucking bad after he left. My dad, he just... he lost it. Everything set him off. One day he saw me with another guy. We weren’t even doing anything, not really, but my dad was so angry. So mad that he was completely calm.”  
  
Isaac closed his eyes. He could still remember it like it was yesterday. He was sitting in the grass by Talia Hale’s grave, cheek resting on the soft black leather jacket that covered Derek’s shoulder. Their fingers were laced together. He caught site of his dad over the curve of the headstone and it was like the world stopped spinning.  
  
“I’d never seen him like that before. I panicked.”  
  
He had known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his dad would kill him that night. Really fucking kill him. Beat him until he was bloody, and his bones were broken, dump his busted body in the chest refrigerator in the basement, padlock it shut, and leave him in there until all the oxygen ran out. Isaac knew he was going to die that night. He knew it.  
  
“I didn’t have a driver’s license, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I just had to get out of there. Had to go before he... before....”  
  
It took Scott’s warm hand on his own for Isaac to realize he was trembling. It was scary to remember all this. He tried not to think about it. Not ever. Not if he didn’t have to. He was grateful that the bus shelter only had three walls, and the soft breeze came rolling in reminding him he was outside in the open and safe. Completely safe. Scott’s steady company made him feel safe too.  
  
“I fucking crashed it. On the overpass. Almost went over the side and ended up dead anyway. Cam would have been so pissed if he saw his truck wrecked like that.”  
  
Isaac lost the thread of his story. He wasn’t sure why he was saying this anyway. Maybe he just wanted someone else to know. Maybe he wanted Scott to hear it from him and not from Stiles, or some other source. He should probably quit talking while he was ahead. Of course, that didn’t stop him from going on.  
  
“When I look back on it, though, I’m just so fucking embarrassed. I wasn’t a car thief. I was a stupid kid trying to run away. What, was I just gonna drive off into the sunset? I was such a fucking idiot. I still feel like a fucking idiot.  
  
“And the drugs... God, I’m not a drug dealer. In ninth grade, I took some prescription pills from the cabinet and tried to sell them at school. I wanted enough money for a bus ticket. Like that would even fucking work. Like they would just let a minor travel on his own. So fucking stupid. Such a stupid fucking plan. I got caught and expelled for it. My dad nearly killed me after it happened. I just... I’m so fucking dumb.”  
  
“You’re not,” Scott whispered to him, squeezing his hand. Silence filled the gaps of the conversation. They stared out at the street as the light slid from green to yellow to red. Scott’s bright voice chipped away at the quiet. “I stole a CD once.”  
  
Isaac barked a laugh. He looked to Scott, tears shining in his eyes. “What?”  
  
“From the thrift store, when I was like ten. No good reason, either. My mom was so sad when she saw it, like, oh Scott how could you.”  
  
“Scott McCall stole something? God, I didn’t know you were capable.” Isaac was definitely crying now, but he was laughing too. He wiped his eyes with one hand, not wanting to pull the other from Scott’s grasp.  
  
“See, what I did, that was dumb. Not you.” Scott leaned in, bumping their shoulders together. “You’re not an idiot. Okay?”  
  
Isaac was probably always going to feel like an idiot for the dumb things he’d done and the stupid mistakes he’d made. It was nice of Scott to say otherwise, though. Even if he couldn’t quite believe it, he wanted to.  
  
“Okay,” Isaac nodded.  
  
Okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://tylerpose.tumblr.com/post/149174655526/isaac-lahey-holy-cardigans))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no new tags, but this chapter does describe isaac's abuse pretty thoroughly so please read ahead cautiously. also, everything i know about court cases i learned from watching tv so my apologies for any inaccuracies. 
> 
> thanks as always to my brilliant beta, [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf). he is the absolutely best. i appreciate everything he does for me, and everything he did to make this fanfic better.

“Now listen, Isaac, you can be there for as much or as little of the hearing as you want,” Sheriff Stilinski explained. He had commandeered Marin Morell’s office, the guidance office, for this little conversation. It was better to talk here than down at the station, at least. Isaac never wanted to be hauled into the sheriff’s station ever again. Twice was enough; he really didn’t want to push his luck with a third time.  
  
He was feeling especially tall today and he hated it. He knew full well he was hunching in on himself, drawing his shoulders close, but that really didn’t stop him doing it. He stared down at his jeans, infinitely interested in the threads of the fabric. He knew he didn’t have to go. He didn’t have to give a victim’s impact statement if he didn’t want to. No one would hold it against him. He also knew that if he didn’t go, if he didn’t speak up in front of the judge, that his dad might get a lighter sentence.  
  
“S’okay,” Isaac muttered. “I’ll be fine at the hearing.”  
  
“Okay, son.” The sheriff reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “I’ll take you down to the courthouse.”  
  
Isaac nodded. He wasn’t sure if he should take his backpack with him. He didn’t want to double back to his locker to put it away, though. He might end up losing his nerve, or worse - he might get the nerve to run. The last time that happened, he stole his brother’s car and nearly killed himself. He figured the safest bet was to stick to the sheriff’s side. He left his book bag in Marin’s office, hoping it would be okay in there.  
  
Without the strap of his backpack to fiddle with, his hands felt dreadfully bare. His palms were all sweaty. He followed the sheriff out into the empty French classroom, and then further out into the hall. The bright wall of windows and the open hallway calmed him a little. Open space always did that for him.  
  
The two of them made their way to the front of the school, passing students who were on their way to their morning classes. God, what he wouldn’t give to be going to English Lit instead of court.  
  
Nearly everyone was gawking at him. Isaac was sure that by the time he was back tomorrow, there would be a new rumor going around about why he was seen leaving with the sheriff. A third arrest or something. He wondered what crime his classmates would saddle him with. Another car theft? Or something more drastic, like murder?  
  
The cruiser was parked out front. When they reached it, the sheriff hesitated a little awkwardly before opening up a door for him. “Sorry, you’ll have to sit in the back,” he said.  
  
“It’s fine.” Isaac slid on to the black, leather seat. _I’ve done it before.  
  
_ Sheriff Stilinski got in the driver’s seat. He turned the car on and headed out of the parking lot, away from the school and towards downtown. Isaac slumped back, watching out the window. It was absurdly sunny. The weather was warm for this time of year. Birds were out chirping, and the trees were still clinging to their last bits of green. The juxtaposition was bizarre. Didn’t the world know that today was a miserable day? What right did it have to look so fucking beautiful?  
  
Isaac wondered how long everything would take. He’d been told the general structure of the hearing. They would have to present evidence all over again. The prosecuting attorney and his dad’s defense lawyer were both going to make statements. Then Isaac would make his own statement. He had a piece of paper in his back pocket with what he wanted to say. He wouldn’t have to look up from the page. He wouldn’t have to look at his dad. Still, the thought of being near his father, in the same room with him, was enough to make Isaac fearful. He felt sick.  
  
“Sir,” Isaac said softly.  
  
The sheriff’s eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror, so he could catch a glimpse of the kid in his backseat. “What is it?”  
  
“I think I’m going to throw up,” Isaac told him.  
  
“Ah, hell.” The sheriff pulled the cruiser onto the shoulder. He scrambled out in a hurry to open the back door, desperate to keep the leather seats free of vomit.  
  
The breeze made Isaac feel better but not much. He stayed sitting in the car but scooted over to the open door and planted his feet on the asphalt of the road. He stared down at the ground and took a deep breath, then another. The sun was shining down on him, trying to convince him that the world was a wonderful place full of light and warmth. He spat at the ground, saliva filling up his mouth.  
  
“You’re just nervous,” the sheriff told him. He reached out to pat Isaac’s back, hesitant but comforting. He was a good guy, all things considered. He didn’t treat Isaac like a criminal despite his record. He didn’t treat Isaac like a pitiful victim either. He’d always been understanding, even when he’d had to make arrests. “Everything’s going to be alright, kid. It might surprise you how good it will feel to get up on the stand and say your piece.”  
  
Isaac managed a sharp, dismissive laugh. _Yeah right._  
  
“We’ll sit outside until it’s time for you to speak.”  
  
One more deep breath and Isaac nodded. He could do that.   

 

* * *

 

Isaac hated how well he knew the court house. His own trial had been held here. He’d been paraded in front of a judge to plead guilty to joyriding and sentenced to six months in a juvenile detention center. He only ended up doing four, but four was enough. During those four months he was pulled from the detention center, made to wear a suit, brought down to the same court house, and forced to participate in his father’s trial.  
  
Unlike his son, Isaac’s father had no intention of pleading guilty to his crimes: multiple counts of felony child abuse and false imprisonment. He had been proven guilty and convicted, but not before dragging it all out through the system with a smug, ugly defense lawyer who painted him like the world’s best dad.  
  
No one else in the family was alive to confirm or deny his guilt. Even the neighbors, the Whittemores, were far too above court proceedings to show up. Mr. Whittemore was a lawyer, and he easily weaseled out of the subpoena that had summoned him to testify. No one was there to confirm the sounds of raised voices, or screaming, or outright violence that occurred at the Lahey house on a regular basis.  
  
The sheriff and his deputies came to testify that they had been called to the house several times for domestic disturbances. Sheriff Stilinski himself sat up on the stand and talked about the black eyes he had seen on Isaac’s face. One of the other deputies, Tara Graeme, told them about the two times she had visited the Lahey residence, responding to noise complaints of yelling and screaming.  
  
The testimonies of the sheriff’s department helped, but it was up to Isaac to prove it all. But he was an unreliable witness, a juvenile delinquent. On top of that, he was terrified to speak on the stand. He didn’t want to get up there, to face his father, to tell everyone the horrible things that had been done to him.  
  
He had done it anyway, and the three days he’d spent giving testimony and being cross-examined were the worst three days of his life. Worse than Cam’s funeral, worse than the nights his father beat him black and blue, worse than the day he was caught cuddling up to Derek Hale.  
  
The feelings of unbridled fear and nauseating nervousness came right back to him as soon as he started up the courthouse steps. It made him so sick, he had to stop outside the heavy wooden doors and catch his breath. The sheriff waited with him.  
  
It was just a sentencing hearing. No smarmy attorneys to contend with. No testimony to give. He didn’t even have to look at his father. He just had to go in and remind the judge that there was a very real victim in this case. He would give his impact statement and he would go. Go, and never come back to this god-awful courthouse ever again.  
  
He tried to go in through the main doors, but his feet stopped at the threshold like there was an invisible barrier. Inside, the courthouse was all cold marble and musty hallways. It was dim and dark compared to the bright light of the midmorning sun.  
  
Isaac saw the bench, the same bench he’d sat on and waited at during his father’s trial. It was wooden, like a church pew, and it sat just outside the court room doors. He’d spent hours there in between taking the witness stand. The prosecuting attorney’s assistant, his own social worker, and a detention center escort had crowded around him, doing very little to assuage his terror. His gut swooped low, recalling his own miserable fear. He didn’t want to go in there. He didn’t want to sit there again.  
  
“Can we... can I wait outside?” Isaac asked. “Here, I mean. On the steps?”  
  
The sheriff hesitated but nodded. “Sure. You just sit right there, and I’ll find out where you need to be and when.”  
  
It was a lot of faith to put in a kid who was known for daring escape attempts (or, one _very specific_ escape attempt) but the sheriff seemed to trust him because he went inside on his own. Isaac sat right down on the steps, breathing deep and even. He wished he had his book bag, so he could distract himself with a notebook or text books. He even considered taking out his phone to mess with, but it was a shitty old phone with no apps or games.  
  
He wished Scott was here to play Duel Otters with him. He wished Scott was here to hold his hand, or hug him, or just talk to him to keep him distracted. Isaac closed his eyes, and pretended he wasn’t alone.  
  
He sat until his back ached from hunching over his knees. He sat until the sun was high in the sky, and all the shadows had changed position. He sat and toyed with his shoe laces and thought about what was written on his back pocket note in between not thinking at all.  
  
People came and went, jurors here for jury duty, men and women in suits, lawyers and defendants and victims just like him. They walked right past him without acknowledging him, much to Isaac’s relief. He didn’t know what he would say if someone tried to speak to him.  
  
The sheriff checked in with him once or twice, and then eventually he poked his head out of the courthouse doors and said. “Isaac, it’s time.”  
  
Isaac swallowed the lump in his throat and stood. He climbed the few remaining stairs to the door. This time he soldiered in past the threshold despite his misgivings. He followed the sheriff woodenly towards one of the court room doors, a different room from last time at least. They opened the door quietly, intending to slip inside. Apparently, it wasn’t quietly enough, because a few heads turned to follow the noise.  
  
Isaac’s father, dressed in prison orange, was sitting at the defendant’s table. He looked over his shoulder. He looked right at Isaac, eyes sharp and clear behind his square glasses. He frowned at the sight of his son.  
  
Isaac swore he felt the world stop spinning.  
  
The court room, a room that should feel huge, suddenly seemed too small. Isaac felt the walls closing in on him, the ceiling sinking low. Terrified, he stepped inside anyway. It wasn’t the first time his father had forced him into a space that felt much too small, but hopefully it would be the last.

 

* * *

 

Isaac heard the back door to vet clinic open and he hurried to dry his eyes. The last thing he needed was for Doctor Deaton to see him sitting in the back lot by the dumpster crying like a baby. He scrubbed his sleeve across his face and sucked in a sharp breath. He was fine. He was completely fucking fine.  
  
“Hey.” It wasn’t Deaton, it was Scott. He sounded tentative. He had Isaac’s back pack in his hands.  
  
Isaac wanted to say ‘hey’ back, but he didn’t trust his voice. He pulled his knees in close to his body and stared at them.  
  
“You weren’t in school,” Scott said, and moved to sit down next to him. Their shoulders touched.  
  
Isaac was reminded of Derek Hale, and how they used to sit together in the graveyard. It was certainly a lot nicer than sitting against the brick of the vet clinic next to the trash. Location aside, Isaac definitely preferred this. Scott was softer than Derek; sweeter and kinder, too.  
  
“Is everything okay?”  
  
Isaac wanted to laugh, but he made an ugly sobbing noise instead. It took him a moment to find words. “My dad’s sentencing hearing was today.”  
  
Scott probably didn’t know what that meant, not entirely, but he nodded anyway. “Uhm, I guess it didn’t go well.” He said after a beat.  
  
That actually did make Isaac laugh. _Yeah_ , he thought, _no shit_.  
  
“Six years for child abuse. Three for false imprisonment.” He thumped his head back against the brick and stared up at the clear blue sky. It was still so pretty out. The world didn’t make sense. “He gets to serve both sentences concurrently, and with time served and good behavior he’ll probably be out in five.”  
  
“Five years?” Scott repeated, not sure what to make of this information. If he knew the extent of the abuse he might find that lacking. As it happened, he knew very little. “Well, that’s okay.” He tried, biting his lip thoughtfully between speaking. “In five years, you’ll be over eighteen and off at college and you’ll never have to see him again.”  
  
Isaac made a wounded noise. He didn’t know if he wanted that or not, and that was the problem.  
  
After the victim impact statement, it was the guilty party’s turn to address the court. Isaac should have been out of the court room at that point. He should have been gone. Instead he was stuck, rooted to the floor as he watched his father stand, take a deep breath, and apologize. He readily admitted his guilt and _apologized_.  
  
“He apologized,” Isaac said in disbelief, voice breaking. He started crying again. Scott slipped an arm around him and Isaac used it as an excuse to shove his face in his friend’s shoulder and sob.  
  
Why the fuck was his dad doing this to him? Why drag everyone through a trial just to admit it in the end? Did he only say that stuff to appease the judge and get a lighter sentence? Or was he actually sorry? He had turned to look Isaac in the face and he pleaded for forgiveness.  
  
Isaac cried and cried and cried. He cried himself into hiccupping coughs, and when his tears dried up he just sat with his face pressed in Scott’s damp shirt. Scott gently rubbed his shoulders, not saying anything. He didn’t know what any of this meant. How could he?  
  
“My dad’s favorite punishment, aside from throwing dishes at me and using his belt, was to lock me in a refrigerator in the basement.” Isaac said it out loud, voice even.  
  
He sat back and searched the expression on Scott’s open face. He didn’t deserve to have all of Isaac’s trauma and baggage dumped on him, but Isaac wanted Scott to understand, to know.  
  
“It was... I was so scared of it. I would beg him not to. I would get on my knees and beg.” Isaac had vivid memories of that. He would go groveling, kneeling at his father’s feet, hands clasped together in supplication. Tears would stream down his face. If he didn’t get up, get the lock and chain himself, and follow his dad downstairs on his own two feet, his dad would just yank him by his upper arm down the basement steps.  
  
His breath hitched in his chest, but he was too cried out to start tearing up again. “It was so small inside, and the air would get stale. It was... I couldn’t breathe. I would panic. I would cry and scream and bruise all my knuckles trying to get out...”  
  
After hours of sobbing, begging, and trying to claw his way out his father would come set him free. He would unlock the fridge, lift the lid up, and take Isaac into his arms, comforting him and shushing him like he wasn’t the one to put him in there in the first place.  
  
Isaac’s favorite memories of his father were those ones. The ones where his dad saved him. He hated himself for falling for it. He was still falling for it, even now. He was still grateful for every single time his dad had come back down the stairs and lifted the fridge lid. He wanted to accept his apology now more than ever.  
  
“But he’s sorry now and.. and...” Isaac had pulled himself together long enough to spit all those words out, but he lost it again and broke into rough, choked sobs. He couldn’t manage tears, but he did manage to give himself a pulsing headache. “I want to believe him.”  
  
Scott frowned gently but said nothing, no judgment coming from him.  
  
“I know I’m being an idiot.” Isaac cried. God, how pathetic was this. “I’m always such a fucking idiot.”  
  
Scott made a sad noise and hugged him tight. “You’re not an idiot.” Then he pulled back, and took Isaac’s face in his hands, and made them look at each other, eye to eye. Scott looked uncharacteristically serious. “You’re not an idiot.”  
  
Isaac whimpered. He wanted to believe that too.  
  
“Isaac, I mean it. You don’t have to decide anything today. You can think about whether you forgive him or not. Just take some deep breaths and think it over.”  
  
Scott was just a kid, just a high school student. He couldn’t fix this. His advice was hardly groundbreaking or moving, but it was enough to soothe some of Isaac’s more frayed nerves. Maybe Scott didn’t know what to say, but he’d sat here with him, held him, let him cry and listened to his story. That was enough. Isaac honestly felt better just getting some of it off his chest, which was odd because he normally hated talking about himself. With Scott he just felt safe.  
  
Isaac and Scott settled back against the wall, leaning into one another. They were quiet and still, unmoving as Isaac’s roiling emotions settled. They sat out there for a long time. Eventually the sound of the back door squeaking open turned their heads. Doctor Deaton was standing there, smiling midly at them.  
  
“There you are. Everything alright, boys?”  
  
“Yeah,” Scott stood up and he helped Isaac up off the ground too. Isaac didn’t really want to move, but what choice did he have? He knew he looked wrecked, so he hunched down and stared at his feet to hide his red rimmed eyes and tear streaked face. “We’ll be in in just a minute.”  
  
Right, they still had work today. God.  
  
Scott squeezed his hand. “Just let me take care of everything, okay? You can sit with me and keep me company.”  
  
Isaac wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve a friend this kind and understanding. He was so, utterly grateful for Scott McCall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](https://gifer.com/en/2MbK))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags have been updated to include a new character: melissa mccall
> 
> and as always thanks to my magnificent beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf). some day i'll learn where commas go. until then, i am eternally grateful for the time and effort he puts into fixing every single one of my comma errors.

“How did things go at the hearing?” Marin asked him.  
  
Isaac scuffed the toe of his sneaker along the tiled floor, back and forth, back and forth. He stared at his foot and shrugged. He got this horrible ache in his chest every time he thought about it, and he didn’t really want to cry himself into yet another headache, so he wasn’t interested in discussing the hearing.  
  
Marin didn’t ask anything else, she simply waited.  
  
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Isaac muttered.  
  
“No?” Marin seemed to consider this, tilting her head slightly. Her sleek black hair fell over one shoulder.  
  
Isaac’s reason for hating her today was that she was too calm all the time. Calm and controlled, but in a way that was too intense. Like all her energy was laser focused on being perfectly put together. Her voice was always measured, her expression always pleasant, her questions and conversation always gentle and easy.  
  
It was infuriating.  
  
He found himself thinking of Scott, and the way he wore his heart on his sleeve. His expressive face and tone. His big brown eyes that said a million things, and his eyebrows that moved in different ways, and his lips that curled in sweet smiles or soft frowns. It was hard to deal with the brick wall of unemotional, impassive civility that was Marin Morrell after being around someone like Scott McCall.  
  
“I bet you’re great in emergencies,” Isaac said off-handedly. He could picture it perfectly. A crowd of people running and screaming for their lives while Marin directed the flow of traffic like a rock in running water.  
  
She looked at him across her neatly organized desk, eyebrow lifting just enough to express curious confusion but nothing more. God forbid she give him any more than that.  
  
“Like, if a bomb was ticking, about to go off, and you were tasked with diffusing it you wouldn’t even break a sweat.”  
  
“Isaac...”  
  
“Have you ever thought about a career change? You should be a trauma room surgeon or something.”  
  
“You’re deflecting,” Marin cut in, scolding him slightly.  
  
Isaac sighed, defeated, and slumped back in his chair. “I’m not talking about the hearing,” he told her. The entire fucking court room had seen his father apologize. He already told Scott all about it. No one else needed to know. Absolutely no one.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Stiles, can I ask you something serious?” Scott spoke up.  
  
Isaac was still getting used to sitting with them at lunch. He kind of felt like a third wheel. They just knew each other so well, and were so in sync with one another, that their effortless conversation passed completely over his head. They often didn’t think to clue Isaac in on the stuff they were talking about; inside jokes, video games he’d never played, TV shows he didn’t watch, memories from their shared childhood.  
  
“What’s up, buddy?” Stiles asked, giving his friend a once over.  
  
“What would you say if, uhm-” Scott glanced furtively at Isaac. “-like, my dad called and apologized for all the stuff he ever did.”  
  
Isaac tensed, unsure where this was going but completely sure he didn’t like the sound of it.  
  
Stiles made an incredulous face. “That he’s an asshole and he’s probably lying?”  
  
Scott made a noise, like that was the wrong answer, and twirled his fork around in the mashed potatoes on his lunch tray. “Yeah, but what if he was serious?”  
  
Stiles glanced to Isaac, probably wondering what he was doing here, listening in on what was shaping up to be a private conversation. Isaac didn’t take his eyes off Scott for a second, practically glaring at him.  
  
“Did your dad call you?” Stiles asked, confused.  
  
“No, no. I’m just asking.” Scott motioned with his hand, rolling it as if he was trying to roll the conversation along. “Like, a hyper - er - hypothetical. Do you think it would be a good idea to accept his apology? If he was really sorry.”  
  
Isaac clenched his jaw. This was so thinly veiled. Who the fuck did Scott think he was kidding here? Why the fuck was he asking Stiles of all people? What the fuck was this about?  
  
“Uh,” Stiles looked between Isaac and Scott again. He narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t clear whether he was picking up on the connection, and realizing that Scott was asking on Isaac’s behalf, or if he just wasn’t sure they should be having this conversation in front of the newcomer at the table. “I guess I would say that, you know, it’s up to you if you want to accept his apology but I wouldn’t necessarily trust him not to hurt you or your mom again?”  
  
“Oh!” Scott lit up. He turned to look at Isaac head on. “That’s good advice!”  
  
Isaac stood, abruptly, his chair scraping backwards behind him. He wanted out of this situation immediately. He clenched his jaw so tight his teeth hurt, turned on his heel, and left. He didn’t storm out, he didn’t stomp off, he just fled.  
  
“Dude, what is _up_ with him?” Stiles asked from somewhere behind him.  
  
Isaac wanted to go outside. Now. The walls were too close. The cafeteria was too crowded. He slammed the double doors to the courtyard open with a bang and rushed into the blessedly cool air outside. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying himself.  
  
His chest hurt. He felt a horrible pang of pain right in his rib cage. He couldn’t believe Scott would do that to him. Did Isaac really have to tell him not to share the private details of his personal life with others? He thought that was a given! Why did Scott think telling Stiles anything was a good idea? Why did he have to go and open his mouth and say all that stuff back there? Did he think Isaac’s life was some game, some wild story he could tell people to get a reaction?  
  
The courtyard door opened.  
  
“Isaac.”  
  
Scott’s voice made the pain in his ribs even worse. Isaac hunched his shoulders and made himself small. There were other kids out here, eating lunch at the concrete tables scattered in the grass. Isaac started walking away from them on instinct, not wanting them to listen in on whatever it was Scott was about to say.  
  
“Hey, Isaac, come on.” Scott grabbed his shoulder.  
  
“Don’t touch me!” Isaac snapped at him, and he meant for it to come out more forceful, but he was hurt, and his voice wobbled and he sounded like a fucking cry baby idiot.  
  
Scott stepped back, holding up his hands to placate Isaac a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“  
  
“Why would you do that?” Isaac asked, accusatory and unkind. “Why would you tell him that? He has no business knowing anything about me or my dad.”  
  
Scott looked confused. “Yeah, I-I know. I would never... I made it about me. I didn’t say anything about you at all.”  
  
Isaac flung his hands up in frustration. “He’s not an idiot, Scott! You think he won’t figure out what you meant with that bullshit hypothetical question in there?”  
  
Scott was quiet for a long moment. He just stood there, staring, the cold breeze prickling goosebumps on his bare arms. He was the picture of regret, with a distraught expression on his face.  
  
Isaac ran the back of his hand across his own face, wiping away tears he was resolutely trying to ignore. He couldn’t believe he was crying about this, at school no less. It just hurt so much to trust someone, and for that trust to be broken.  
  
“I... I just... I’m not always good at advice and stuff. And Stiles is the smartest person I know, so I thought, like, he would know what to say,” Scott explained, beseeching, clearly desperate to be understood. “I’m sorry, Isaac. I wasn’t... I just wanted to help.”  
  
Isaac didn’t say anything. Couldn’t.  
  
“Isaac, please.” Scott sounded so sad. “You have to know that I’m sorry, that I didn’t mean to upset you.”  
  
“Well, you did!”

 

* * *

 

Isaac spent most of pre-calc with his head in his hands, staring at his text book while the numbers blurred into nonsense because tears kept welling up in his eyes. He was over his anger now, and instead he was just mournful with regret. He shouldn’t have gotten so mad. Scott was the only fucking friend he had. He didn’t even do anything wrong. He made one little mistake, and it had been done with good intentions.  
  
If Isaac was willing to entertain the idea of forgiving his father, a man who had literally tortured him for years, he had no reason not to forgive Scott who was only ever nice to him.  
  
It was a good thing that chemistry was next period, because Isaac needed to fix this before it got worse. He couldn’t sit through one more class knowing he and Scott were fighting over something so stupid. He was such an idiot for getting so angry. He was always so fucking dumb.  
  
Isaac sort of dreaded the idea of approaching Scott and talking openly to him in front of their classmates, but he needed Scott to know that he wasn’t upset anymore. His anger had been a flash in the pan, and it had subsided almost immediately. Now he was just sorry for being mad at all. Isaac wished he had Scott’s number, so he could text him and tell him all this, but he didn’t.  
  
A big hot tear splashed down on to his math book, distorting the numbers for real. The moisture made the ink go all smudged. He sniffled quietly, very glad that he was in the back of the class where no one could see him. He scrubbed his face with the cuff of his sleeve. He was fine. He was fucking fine. He was going to tell Scott that he was sorry, and they were both going to forgive each other, they were going to be friends again, and there was no reason to cry in class.  
  
The relief that washed over him when the bell rang was palpable. His heart started beating a little harder in his chest at the idea of a confrontation, but it didn’t deter him. He hurried over to the science wing, to Mr. Harris’s classroom, and waited by the door. If he was lucky, he would catch Scott before he went in and they could talk out in the hallway away from eavesdropping ears.  
  
The five minutes between classes felt much longer. Inexplicably long, in fact. His classmates all filed in, ignoring him where he stood. Everyone took their seats. The halls emptied. Scott and Stiles were nowhere to be seen. They usually came waltzing in together, talking hurriedly to one another like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks even though they hung out in the morning and between every class and sat with one another at lunch.  
  
The second bell rang, and Isaac slipped inside, confused. He took one of the three empty seats left. Scott and Stiles weren’t here. Had they skipped together? Why did they have to pick today of all days, this class of all classes, when Isaac desperately wanted to see them? Or, at least, one of them.  
  
Mr. Harris started passing out worksheets. When everyone had a paper in front of them, he opened his mouth to start the lesson, but the loud squeak of the door hinges interrupted him. Stiles came barreling in, a worried look on his face.  
  
“Mr. Stilinski,” Harris started in. “You’re late. Is it managing time that you’re incapable of? Or, perhaps, simply walking from one room to another is too difficult a task for you.”  
  
Stiles sank into an empty seat, one row up from Isaac. “I can walk from one room to another just fine,” he muttered indignantly.  
  
“Good, then you can walk yourself straight to detention after school today.”  
  
Stiles grimaced.  
  
Harris turned to the board and began speaking, chalking something out as he went. Stiles was just close enough that Isaac could whisper to him without calling too much attention to himself. He stretched one long leg out, nudging Stiles’ chair to get his attention. Stiles glanced down, confused by the way he’d just slid forward an inch, before whipping his head around and spying Isaac.  
  
“Where’s Scott?” Isaac asked him.  
  
“Why do you care?” Stiles shot back.  
  
Isaac’s expression hardened. God, could this kid be any more of an asshole? How could Scott be friends with him?  
  
“He had an asthma attack,” Stiles snapped in a hissing whisper. “No thanks to you; making him go out in the cold and getting him all upset. He’s in the hospital.”  
  
Isaac felt his heart stop in his chest. His eyes went wide. Scott was in the hospital? Scott was in the hospital. Scott was in the hospital, and it was his fault? He did this?  
  
“Mr. Stilinski,” Harris boomed from the front of the room. “That’s not your obnoxious whisper I hear, is it?” He was clearly gearing up for more degradation in front of the entire class, followed by slapping another detention on to Stiles’ sentence.  
  
“Mr. Harris, I need to go to the guidance office,” Isaac blurted out.  
  
Mr. Harris glanced at him, momentarily taken back by the interruption. Everyone knew that Harris was a complete and utter fucking asshole. He would sooner let his students piss themselves than write out a hall pass for the bathroom. No one even dared to ask to go to the nurse, much less the guidance office.  
  
His eyes settled on Isaac from behind his square glasses. He was probably well aware that Isaac had regular visits with Ms. Morrell. Somewhere at the beginning of the school year Mr. Harris had probably gotten a warning. _Isaac Lahey, he’s unstable, he caused problems at his old school, his needs aren’t like other students. If he seems upset, let him step out. If he needs help, let him go to the counselor._  
  
“Fine,” Harris allowed, tersely, as if this was painful for him.  
  
Isaac stood, narrowly remembering to grab his bag. He hurried out of class. He certainly wasn’t going to make his way to the guidance office, though. As soon as he was in the hall he started digging around in his pocket for bus money. He didn’t actually have enough to get from the hospital to work later and back to the group home, but he had enough to get to the hospital. That was all that mattered.  
  
Completely ignoring the trouble he would get in if he was caught skipping school, Isaac went out a side entrance and stalked off school grounds. No one spoke to him or stopped him. He made his way to the closest bus stop and stood, nervously glaring at the pavement like the cracks and grit had some answer for him.  
  
He had gotten to know the bus system in Beacon Hills pretty well since no one was going to let him behind the wheel of a car again any time soon. When the number 75 bus came he hopped on and rode it to the hospital. Isaac didn’t bother sitting in any of the vacant bus seats. He anxiously clutched a metal pole instead, hand sweating. When the bus door opened at the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital parking lot, he bolted out.  
  
Isaac didn’t like hospital all that much. He didn’t have any fond memories of them, though he supposed that was true for most people. He had come to the emergency room once when he was a really little kid, six years old maybe. His dad had twisted his arm so hard it broke. He remembered lying to the doctors, telling them it was his brother Cam who had done it by playing too rough.  
  
Another time, when he was much older, he had broken a few fingers in his left hand trying to beat his way out of the fridge. He had to take the bus to the ER by himself. His dad had insisted that he was fine and that he could go back to backhoe duty in the graveyard. He wasn’t too happy when Isaac came home with his fingers in a splint.  
  
The last time Isaac had been here, it was after his car crash. He’d arrived in the back of an ambulance, bleeding all over from shallow cuts and bruised pretty badly from the seatbelt. One of the doctors ordered a psych consult because they thought he was suicidal. Isaac had to explain to them that he didn’t want to hurt himself, and that he had run from someone trying to hurt him instead.  
  
In the middle of explaining about his father and the abuse he inadvertently admitted to taking the car without permission. The sheriff showed up and Isaac had left the hospital, relatively patched up, in the back of a cop car. It made his guts feel icy cold to go walking in the automatic emergency room doors. Everything came rushing back to him.  
  
It creeped him out how things were exactly the same as they had been that night. Seeing the same pair of chairs outside the exam rooms, and the same broken vending machine, and the same posters about flu vaccines on the wall momentarily gave him pause. It was like stepping back into the night of the crash, into that horror, into that feeling of horrible hopelessness. It hadn’t been that long ago. The hospital had no reason to change. He resented it for being all the same anyway.  
  
He brushed past all the glaring similarities and all his bad memories in order to walk right up to the receptionist desk. There were a few nurses there, all busy, one with her back turned to him but he spoke up anyway.  
  
“Excuse me, I’m looking for a patient; Scott McCall.”  
  
The nurse at the desk turned around at once. It was Scott’s mom. Isaac blanched a little. He had no doubt it was her. They had the same dark hair and brown eyes. He remembered her from the supermarket, and the night of the crash, and he suddenly wished he had waited for her to turn around before approaching.  
  
“And you are?” She asked coolly, fully aware that she had found a truant high schooler in her midst.  
  
“Uh,” Isaac debated not telling her his real name. It was no good, she probably already knew who he was. “Isaac.”  
  
“Ah,” she nodded. “I’ve heard about you. Is there a reason you’re not in school right now, Isaac?”  
  
Because his only friend, and the guy he had a crush on, was sick in the hospital, potentially dying, and Isaac had gone off and yelled at him for a dumb reason and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that conversation he had with Scott in the courtyard was the last one they ever had.  
  
“Uhm. Free period.”  
  
Mrs. McCall gave him a look. She knew that wasn’t true, but she nodded anyway. She stepped around the reception desk and motioned for Isaac to follow her. “You can say hello. He’s doing alright now but go easy.”  
  
After leading him to a big blue curtain, shrouded around what was likely a hospital bed, Mrs. McCall gestured for him to go on in. She gave Isaac’s upper arm a caring squeeze before heading back to whatever work was waiting for her at reception. Isaac stilled, not sure if he should just pull back the curtain without warning, but it wasn’t like there was a door for him to knock on or anything. Eventually he found a part in the fabric and ducked inside.  
  
Scott was sitting upright in a hospital bed, the crinkled tube of a blue nebulizer held up to his mouth. White froth billowed out from one end. He spotted Isaac and lit up with a smile around the nebulizer’s mouth piece before he seemed to remember that they had had an argument. Then his expression went from unsure to hopeful, and he pulled the tube away from his face. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey,” Isaac said, dumping his book bag down on the floor. He felt oddly nervous. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”  
  
Scott nodded. “It’s okay,” he said, all understanding and sure.  
  
“It isn’t. You’ve been nothing but nice to me and I shouldn’t have gotten angry over something so dumb.” Now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop himself. The words just came rolling out. He twisted his fingers together nervously as he spoke. “When Stiles said you were in the hospital I thought you were like, dying or something, and I ran out of Mr. Harris’ class to get here and apologize before you, you know, passed on or whatever.”  
  
Thankfully, Scott found this funny instead of morbid and started laughing. His laugh turned into a rough, hacking cough and then some wheezing started up. He breathed in as deep as he could from the nebulizer, and Isaac waited for him to recover without saying anything else.  
  
“It’s seriously okay. I’m just glad you’re not mad,” Scott said eventually, in between puffs of the airy, white medicine.  
  
Isaac ducked his head and brought a palm up to the back of his own neck. The situation between them was okay now, thank God. A tiny flutter of relief caught in his chest. However, Scott wasn’t okay. He was currently being hospitalized. It didn’t get any more not-okay than that.  
  
“What about you, though?” Isaac pressed him. “What happened?”  
  
Scott shrugged. “Just an asthma attack. Happens all the time. My lips barely even turned blue.”  
  
Isaac’s eyes went wide. Barely even? That means they did to some extent, even if it was a little. Jesus, Scott actually could have died.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he apologized at once, feeling so guilty he thought he might cry. Not that he hadn’t cried enough today. Not that sobbing would help either one of them at this point. He remembered what Stiles had whispered to him in class and just felt so fucking awful. “Is this my fault?”  
  
Scott gave him a questioning look without removing the nebulizer from his lips.  
  
“If you hadn’t followed me outside...”  
  
“Dude, no!” Scott reached out for Isaac’s arm as if this helped make his point. “I mean, yeah the cold is a problem and all but, I went outside like six times today. Sometimes this stuff just happens.”  
  
The tiny flutter of relief from a moment ago turned into a big, vacating rush. His chest literally felt lighter. He heaved a grateful sigh and suddenly relaxed all over. After a second to consider, he sat down on Scott’s bed with him. They sat for a few seconds in comfortable silence.  
  
“Want to play Duel Otters?” Isaac asked, raising up his eyebrows.  
  
Scott grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://forwoood.tumblr.com/post/98241979467/top-10-tw-characters-as-voted-by-my-followers-6%22))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no new tags. 
> 
> thank you to my outstanding beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf). without him, i probably wouldn't be writing fanfic or feel brave enough to share any of my work. and without him, this fic would be riddled with errors and much less fun to read.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Malia snapped, standing up fast.  
  
Isaac flinched hard at the movement. He made himself small, hunching his shoulders in. He stared down at his plate, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible.  
  
“Let’s all just calm down,” Bennett said, not rising from his seat.  
  
Malia only raised her voice. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me! I’m not eating this shit again!”  
  
Malia was hard to contend with on most days. She was constantly frustrated or annoyed, painfully blunt, and prone to anger. When she got mad, she could be downright feral. It was weird to see such an aggressive personality packed into a hundred and twenty-five-pound brunette. Isaac had seen her cold clock a kid once, and that, among other reasons, was why his heart was now racing in his chest.  
  
“I don’t know how to cook anything else,” Noah groused. He looked to Isaac, his roommate, to back him up but Isaac only made himself smaller and refused to raise his eyes.  
  
There were fights at dinner sometimes. Arguments over food, or chores, or who got to pick what to watch on TV after the dishes were done. Isaac didn’t like those either, but this was so much worse. This was like every dinner he’d ever had with his father every day of his life after Cam had died. Screaming across the table and plates being thrown. No one had thrown any dishes yet, but that didn’t mean no one would.  
  
Isaac’s stomach twisted in terrible, nauseous knots. He felt way too crowded by all the residents gathered at the table. The dining room was too dim, and it seemed to be growing darker. The walls were closing on him, moving nearer and nearer as he sat. It was too fucking small in here.  
  
“You didn’t cook anything!” Malia yelled, thrusting an accusatory finger at Noah. “You boiled some noodles and microwaved a jar of tomato sauce. That’s not cooking!”  
  
“Malia.” Bennett tried again. “Malia. Calm down.”  
  
He made the unwise mistake of reaching out to steady her and she slapped his hand back. “Don’t tell me to calm down!” she snapped. She shoved his shoulder once, hard, and in a flurry of anger she snatched a glass off the table and hurled it at the wall because breaking things would get her in less trouble than breaking Bennett’s face. It shattered easy.  
  
The ceiling seemed to slam down on Isaac like the lid of the fridge slamming closed. All the breath went out of his lungs. He bolted in terror, tearing through the living room to the front door. He practically ripped the door off the hinges to get outside. Even when the cold night pushed air into his chest, reminding him he was out and in the open and totally safe, he kept running. The house was too close. He needed to be far away. He ran out, down the front steps, down the drive way, out into the empty road, and into the vacant lot across the street.  
  
Standing with the stars a million miles over his head and nothing close to him on any side, Isaac caught his breath. He tried to, at least. It wasn’t coming right; he was all stunned and shaky. He kept making these awful-sounding short gasps.  
  
_It’s not my dad_ , he reminded himself.  _It’s not my dad, and I’m not in trouble. No one is going to hurt me. No one is going to hit me. I don’t have to go to the basement_.  
  
It took him a long, long time to calm down even just a little bit. Isaac didn’t move to go back inside, though. He just couldn’t go back in there. Instead he trudged to the street and sat down on the curb, planting his feet on the asphalt. He stared at the house across the way. He never actually expected the place to feel like home, like a real home, but he at least expected to feel safe there. He was all shaken up now. He couldn’t go back inside. Not right now. Not tonight.  
  
Bennett eventually came out to look for him and spotted him easily. He came across the road and sat down beside Isaac, not too close, and took a minute before he spoke. “It’s calmed down now.”  
  
Isaac didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to even think about what had just happened. “Can I use one of my overnights?” He asked.  
  
Bennett gave him a confused sort of look. The other kids, the ones who still had parents that weren’t dead or in jail, were allowed to spend two nights of the week at their real home if they wanted to. Most didn’t, because their home situations were bad enough to be sent to New Beginnings, so why go back? They used their overnights to sleep at their friend’s houses instead. So far as Bennett knew, Isaac didn’t have any family or even friends.  
  
“Yes, that’s allowed,” Bennett said slowly. “You’ll have to give me the address, and the contact information of whoever lives there, but that should be fine.”  
  
Isaac nodded. He pulled his phone out from his pocket. Biting nervously at his bottom lip, he clicked through the contacts. He only had a few. Cam’s old number, his dad’s old cell, his old house phone, his social worker, a couple of supervisors from the group home, Sheriff Stilinski’s work phone, and Scott McCall. Scott had given it to him at the hospital.  
  
He hesitated. Scott had never invited him over before. Did he even want Isaac at his house? Would he mind if Isaac asked to stay the night? Isaac clicked the call button anyway and when he held his phone up to his ear he found his hand was trembling.  
  
“Hello?” Scott answered on the third ring.  
  
“Hey, uh, can I come over?” Isaac asked in a rush, getting the question out before he lost the nerve.  
  
He could practically hear Scott smile on the other end of the line. “Dude! Yes!”  
  
“And... and stay over? Tonight? Is that okay?”  
  
“Totally okay!” Scott assured him. “I’ll tell my mom.”

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for letting me stay here, Mrs. McCall,” Isaac said, briefly meeting her eyes. It was still weird to see her outside of the hospital.  
  
“Please, it’s Melissa, and you’re welcome here any time,” she promised, reaching out to squeeze his hand. The gesture was so simple yet so comforting. Isaac understood where Scott got it from.  
  
“Come on.” Scott nodded towards the stairs, grinning. “I’ll show you my room.”  
  
Together they went up to the second floor. Scott’s room was exactly what Isaac expected. There were a few clothes scattered on the floor, posters and pictures stuck to the walls, shelves that had more odds and ends than they did books, even a guitar propped up against one wall.  
  
It struck Isaac how big it was. The room he shared with Noah wasn’t even this big. He wasn’t jealous exactly, but he did resolve to spend as much time in here as possible from now on. It was just so nice and homey. Isaac’s actual home, when he’d lived with his dad, hadn’t ever felt this comfortable.  
  
Scott’s bed was especially cozy. The plaid comforter covering the mattress was obviously lived in and well loved. It smelled like Scott, like his deodorant and a little bit of his sweat. Maybe it was gross but Isaac kind of liked that smell. He was tempted to dive in and bury his face in the pillows just to smell it even more. Instead, he hovered awkwardly by the door, not sure what to do or where to go. He absolutely could not remember ever being a guest in anyone else’s home before. Not once. His dad never let him go anywhere, and he didn’t have many friends. This was kind of a first for him.  
  
“Hey, come on.” Scott didn’t seem to notice Isaac’s uncertainty, and if he did he didn’t miss a beat. He hopped onto his mattress and patted the bed next to him. “Come sit! We can play Diablo III!”  
  
“I don’t know how,” Isaac admitted, going to sit at the edge of the bed.  
  
“That’s okay,” Scott assured him at once. “We’ll play on normal mode. It’s still fun.” He began wrangling up Xbox controllers, turning things on and getting the game ready.  
  
Isaac noticed a framed picture on Scott’s bedside table. He turned to look at it closer, taking the frame into his hands. In the photo Scott had his arm wrapped around a pretty girl. She had big brown eyes and cute dimples. They looked so fucking happy together, it made Isaac’s chest ache.  
  
“Is this Allison?” he asked.  
  
Scott glanced over his shoulder to see Isaac holding the picture. His face split into a grin, and stars practically sparkled in his eyes. “Yeah, isn’t she pretty?”  
  
“Yeah,” Isaac nodded and put the picture back. “You talk to her lately?”  
  
“Every day!” Scott said happily.  
  
Isaac had always kind of known that he didn’t have a chance with Scott. He was probably straight for one thing, and Allison seemed to have captured his heart, even with the distance between the two of them. It was a long shot to think Scott and Isaac would ever be together. Still, it stung to be reminded of just how unlikely it was.  
  
He wasn’t going to be jealous, he wasn’t going to pine pitifully, he wasn’t going to cry about it. Well, probably not. He was lucky to have Scott as a friend and he knew that. He would learn to be happy with things staying that way. Plain and simple. That was that.  
  
The picture frame was replaced by an Xbox controller and before he knew what was going on, Isaac was picking a class for his video game character and naming it. Suddenly he was hacking up skeletons in a graveyard and raiding spooky cathedrals.  
  
He didn’t really get the game or what they were doing in it or why, since Scott kept skipping over the story portions, insisting they weren’t important. Isaac just knew to run after stuff when enemies dropped loot and to hand his controller over to Scott to equip new weapons and armor for his character because he absolutely could not figure out the equip screen no matter how many times he leveled up.  
  
Somewhere in between all the instructions, and telling him which abilities to use during dungeon fights, and where to follow his character on the map Scott asked about something else: “So, how come you didn’t want to stay at your place?”  
  
Isaac almost hadn’t noticed that the personal question had slipped into the gameplay. He momentarily felt a little sick thinking back to how horrible dinner had been. The feeling passed, as he focused on the game. It was a nice distraction. “There was an argument at dinner. It kinda freaked me out.”  
  
“Dude, who did you get into an argument with?” Scott asked, eyes glued to the screen as his thumbs worked the controller.  
  
“No one, I didn’t... it was two other residents fighting.” Isaac explained. “It was just like... I don’t know. It reminded me of my dad.”  
  
Scott chanced a glance over at him and frowned a little. “Does that kind of stuff happen a lot? Like, at the New Beginnings place.”  
  
Isaac had never told Scott where he lived, but pretty much everyone knew he stayed in a group home and there was only one of those in all of Beacon Hills. “No, not like that. It’s usually not so... violent.”  
  
“Woah,” Scott paused the game abruptly, turning to Isaac full on. “Things got violent? Did someone hurt you? Do you need my mom to-“  
  
“No, nobody hurt me.” Isaac managed a smile, his heart warming in his chest from Scott’s sincere concern. He hesitated momentarily before speaking again. “Sometimes when I get freaked out or upset or scared...” he trailed off, thinking better of admitting this out loud.  
  
Scott waited for a long moment, an imploring look on his face. “What?” he urged gently.  
  
“It’s like... the room gets too small.” Isaac whispered. “Even when it’s a big room. It’s like the walls are closing in on me, and I’m back in the fridge and I can’t get out.”  
  
Scott’s eyes went a little wide. “Like a panic attack?”  
  
Isaac shrugged and looked down at the Xbox controller in his hand, thumb moving idly over the raised buttons. “It’s more like an anxiety attack I think. It happened to me at dinner tonight. I just had to get out of there.”  
  
“If that happens again, I’ll help you,” Scott volunteered at once.  
  
Isaac huffed a laugh. “It probably won’t happen when you’re around.” He glanced up quick, worried about how that sounded and what he’d just implied. He just felt so safe and comfortable and good around Scott. He couldn’t say that, though. Isaac didn’t want to freak him out. “I mean,” he hurried to add, “We don’t see each other that much outside of work. It’s not like you can really be there all the time in case I freak out.” He twisted his words to make it seem like he’d been talking about physical distance and not his emotional state of mind.  
  
Scott frowned, seeming to just now realize how little they actually saw of each other. “I guess you’re right, but I want to help.”  
  
“You do.” Isaac smiled. “You’re a good friend.”  
  
Just a friend. Nothing more. It hurt to say it out loud but that was just the way it had to be.  
  
“Cool,” Scott smiled back. “You’re a good friend, too. And, seriously, if you ever need someone to cheer you up, I’m your guy, okay? You can come over to my house whenever you want, or we can go get smoothies, or do anything that will make you feel better.”  
  
They played Diablo until almost three in the morning, only stopping once to sneak downstairs in the middle of the night to acquire a box of cold leftover pizza from the fridge for a midnight snack and a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew. Isaac wasn’t even sure when they fell asleep, but when he woke up he was curled in Scott’s bed. The TV was still on, the pause screen on display. Controllers were tangled in the sheets with them. Scott was sleeping next to him, so close they were almost spooning. Isaac narrowly resisted cuddling in closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://fyeahdanielsharman.tumblr.com/post/66539107154))  
> 
> 
> and two quick notes. one - i apologize to malia who is a nice girl who deserves better characterization than this but what can ya do. plot needs to happen. two - i know scott doesn't have a tv in his room. don't @ me.
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags have been updated to include two new characters, erica and boyd, and a relationship tag for the two of them :)
> 
> as always thank you to my fantastic beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf)! the thanks i give and gratitude i express in my authors notes doesn't even begin to cover how thankful and grateful i am for all your hard work.

Something abruptly changed in the carefully maintained status quo of the lunchroom seating arrangement. In all actuality, it had changed a few weeks back when Scott and Stiles decided to sit with Isaac instead of at their old table next to the theater kids. What once was an empty ten-seat table, save for Isaac and Boyd, became nearly half full with the four of them all sitting there. Boyd was still off in one corner by himself, but the landscape of the table had changed entirely.  
  
So, of course it was odd when someone else suddenly joined the ranks. Isaac tried not to look down at the far end of the table. He always hated when people stared at him, so he wasn’t going to do the same thing to someone else, but he definitely caught a glimpse of long blonde hair before he sat down.  
  
Stiles was a lot less subtle. “Did Boyd get a girlfriend or something?” He asked as he set his tray full of food down. “How the hell did he get a girlfriend before me? That just... that’s not right.”  
  
Isaac winced, knowing full well how loud Stiles’ mouth was. There was no doubt that Boyd and the girl sitting with him had heard everything he just said. Isaac chanced a glance in their direction, potentially to offer a sympathetic expression or mouth the word ‘sorry’ at them when he realized he recognized the girl sitting there.  
  
“Erica?” he said, eyes wide.  
  
Erica snapped her head up, laid eyes on him, and her mouth twisted into a wolfish grin. “Well, hey, inmate,” she greeted him, all too pleased with this turn of events.  
  
She looked vastly different outside of the juvenile detention uniform. Isaac never would have pegged her for a girl who wore low cut tops and high heeled pumps, but here she was looking like a complete bombshell. Her frizzy hair had been tamed into classy curls, and her make-up was flawless. Isaac was surprised he even recognized her.  
  
Because there were only a few female juvenile offenders in Beacon County, the detention center didn’t have enough manpower or resources to open up a girls-only facility. Instead, the thirty or so girls who were serving sentences there were allocated to their own wing. They still shared common areas with the rest of the inmates, though. Isaac remembered Erica pretty easily, she stood out. They had only talked a few times, and Erica had been the one to start the conversation each time.  
  
He didn’t know exactly what she’d done to be sent to juvie, but he’d heard rumors. Apparently, she had a seizure disorder, and that much he knew was true because he’d once seen her drop in the yard and convulse on the grass as the guards stood over her.  
  
The story went that some kid had filmed her on his phone while she was in the middle of having a seizure. He sent it around to all his friends like it was a big joke or something. Fed up with being made fun of, Erica hauled off and punched the guy, knocking some of his teeth out. Isaac had also heard stories that she broke his jaw or cracked his skull open. The teeth thing seemed most likely to him, so that’s what he chose to believe.  
  
After that, it was open season on anyone who called her ‘seizure girl’ or made fun of her epilepsy in any capacity. She went from never having been in a fight to knocking heads left and right. It was no wonder she ended up in juvenile detention. Erica was a little scary, in all honesty, but she’d never done anything to Isaac, so he wasn’t too afraid of her.  
  
“When did you get out?” he asked, sliding down a few seats to sit across from her.  
  
“Don’t worry about me,” he heard Stiles grumble to himself. “I’ll just sit down here, alone, by myself.”  
  
Isaac didn’t feel too bad for him. If Boyd could manage sitting alone at lunch every day for the entire school year, Stiles could handle sitting adjacent to two other people for one period.  
  
“Last week.” Erica grinned. “Brunski sends his regards.”  
  
Isaac grimaced. Brunski was everyone’s least favorite correctional officer. He had kind of reminded Isaac of his dad, and so he spent most of his time in juvie desperately avoiding the guy.  
  
“And you’re at Beacon Hills High, now?” Isaac asked her, blowing past the Brunski comment.  
  
“Got expelled from my old school.” She shrugged. Probably for knocking the teeth out of that kid who had filmed her seizing.  
  
Isaac knew all about getting expelled. He hoped it would work out for Erica at this school the same way it had for him. He wasn’t even sure why he felt a fondness for her. They weren’t exactly friends. They were just kids who had met each other in juvenile detention. Still, Isaac got the feeling that she didn’t deserve half the shit she dealt with. He knew all about that too.  
  
“Hey,” Scott’s bright voice cut in as he arrived at the table. He sat down next to Isaac, their shoulders brushing together. “Who’s your friend?” he asked.  
  
“Oh, uh…” Again, they weren’t really friends, but Isaac went ahead and introduced her anyway. “Scott, this is Erica. Erica, this is Scott.”  
  
Erica eyed the distance between the two of them, or lack-thereof, and raised up an eyebrow. “Oh, okay.” She smirked like she knew something Isaac didn’t, and she jerked her chin in Scott’s direction. “Hey cutie, you single?”  
  
Scott floundered a little.  
  
Boyd, who had been completely quiet up until this point, cleared his throat.  
  
“Relax, baby,” Erica cooed, pulling Boyd in close so that she could plant a kiss on his cheek, proving Stiles right about whether or not he had a girlfriend. “I’m just asking for a friend.” She winked at Isaac and her wolfish grin returned.  
  
Isaac’s ears turned pink. Oh, this was a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have approached Erica after all. She was going to get him into trouble, he could tell already.

 

* * *

 

Isaac was almost entirely finished counting inventory when he realized Scott was nowhere in sight. Technically they didn’t have to do any of their tasks at work together, but they liked to. They got along so well that it just made sense to work side by side whenever they could. Sometimes Scott got called away by Doctor Deaton to assist with the animals or on minor procedures, but other than that, Scott and Isaac were usually inseparable.  
  
Isaac was pretty sure that Scott had said he’d be right in. He just had to finish something first. Except, he never showed up in the stock room. Isaac finished the rest of the inventory on his own. He delivered the supply count to Deaton’s desk and then went to survey the hallway, looking for Scott.  
  
Isaac found him tucked away in the far exam room, the one Doctor Deaton rarely used. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the brick wall behind him. Scott had a textbook on his thighs and he was staring down at the pages like it was a foreign language. Isaac didn’t think it was his Spanish homework, though.  
  
He slipped quietly into the room, attempting not to make too much noise. Scott looked up anyway. “Hey, Sorry. I’ll be there in a minute.”  
  
“Inventory’s done.” Isaac told him.  
  
Scott made a face like he was surprised and when he glanced hurriedly at the clock on the wall his surprise only grew. “Oh, man. Have I been in here that long?”  
  
“What are you working on?” Isaac asked, sitting down on the floor beside him. There was barely any space between them, but of course Scott closed the gap readily, pressing in side-by-side.  
  
Scott showed off his text book. “Pre-Bio,” he said miserably.  
  
Isaac’s eyes grazed over the page. The chapter was about understanding genetics. He caught sight of words like ‘ribosomes’, ‘nucleotides’ and ‘RNA’. He wasn’t taking biology, so he didn’t really know what this stuff was. He thought maybe he’d been given a basic overview of these things in his freshman year science class, but he didn’t remember much of it.  
  
“Wait... We’re in chemistry together, so what’s with the biology stuff?” Isaac asked him.  
  
“I’m taking pre-Bio as an elective,” Scott explained.  
  
Most kids chose easy electives like art classes; drawing and painting. Some kids chose vocational stuff like wood-shop or electronics. The weird over-achiever kids always went for smart stuff like cultural anthropology or advanced composition.  
  
Isaac himself had tried to pick the easiest possible elective on the list and this year he was in the film studies class. He thought he would just get to sit around and watch movies, but actually he had to write essays about the movies the teacher showed them. They were all really boring old films too. Still, it wasn’t a bad class and it was a hell of a lot easier than this genetics stuff. Almost no one took an extra core class like math or science if they didn’t have to. Except here Scott was, electing to take pre-Bio.  
  
“Why’d you chose this for an elective?” Isaac asked him.  
  
“I’m trying to get into AP Biology next year.” He said, touching at the edges of the text book just to have something to do with his hands. “I want to go to Berkeley and major in veterinary sciences. I kinda need to take AP Bio and get a good grade if I want to get accepted there but, like, I don’t understand any of this stuff.”  
  
Isaac vaguely remembered hearing Scott say something about this before. He was kind of impressed that Scott had a real plan for what to do with himself after high school. Berkeley seemed like a lofty goal, but not unachievable. If anyone could set their mind to something and do it, it was Scott McCall.  
  
“I know sometimes you think you’re dumb, but, I actually am dumb,” Scott said quietly. “I feel like I’m always studying and taking notes but it’s like I don’t _get_ stuff.”  
  
“You’re not dumb,” Isaac told him, though he knew full well from experience that just telling someone that didn’t really help anything. It was nice to hear but it wasn’t going to get Scott’s homework done. “You can definitely do this. If it’s this hard for you, you might just need a little help, and that’s okay. C’mon. I’ll study with you.”  
  
Isaac was used to studying hard and pushing himself to get the best grades. Anything less than all A’s used to mean punishment from his father. Even though he wasn’t in this class, he knew he’d be able to pick up enough from the textbook to help Scott succeed. He took the book into his own lap and turned back a few pages to start reading the section on DNA and genetics from the beginning.  
  
Scott watched him, eyeing him critically before speaking up. “You’re really going to help me study?” he asked. “What if I need help all year?”  
  
Isaac shrugged. “I’ll help you all year, then.”  
  
“What if I need help with AP Biology next year, too?” Scott asked.  
  
Isaac hoped they would still be friends then, so he shrugged a second time. “I’ll help you with AP Bio, too.”  
  
Scott grew quiet as he considered this. Isaac turned back to the textbook and started reading again.  
  
“Uhm, can you read it out loud, maybe?” Scott asked, a little shyly. “I think listening is better for me than trying to read.”  
  
“Sure,” Isaac agreed readily. “Discovering the Structure of DNA.” He read the chapter heading aloud before starting in on the first paragraph. “The molecule that is the basis for heredity, DNA, contains the patterns for constructing proteins in the body, including the various enzymes.”  
  
Scott leaned his head against Isaac’s shoulder and followed the words on the page as he listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://halesbane.tumblr.com/post/108465243156/the-full-moon-that-feeling-it-was-worth-it))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no new tags
> 
> thank you to my extraordinary beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf). he is the wind beneath my wings, the rainbow in my cloud, the corrector of all my silly typos and grammar mistakes.

“Hey, do you wanna go to the movies with me?” Scott asked, looking up from the bowl he was filling with cat food.  
  
Isaac’s heart jumped in his chest, entirely sure that Scott McCall had just asked him out. On a date. He stilled, cupping a kitten in his hands that he’d been putting back in its cage. It mewled at him, lifting up its little hind legs to scrabble at his grasp.  
  
“Uh...” had Isaac heard that right? Had he been imagining it?  
  
“Me and Stiles are gonna go see that new Marvel movie tonight. You could come too, if you want.”  
  
Ah. Isaac’s heart settled, and then almost sank in disappointment. He should have known. Just a couple of friends hangin’ out, going to the movies. It wasn’t a date at all. It didn’t mean anything. He didn’t want it to either, because his stupid crush was nothing and wouldn’t go anywhere and he was fine with that.  
  
“I don’t know...” Isaac put the kitten in its clean cage, locking the barred door in place.  
  
“Come on, it’ll be fun!”  
  
“I don’t actually have any money.” Isaac admitted. “My paycheck from working here gets deposited into an account I don’t even have access to, and the stupid allowance thing they give me is just enough to cover, like, bus fare and stuff.”  
  
“Oh.” Scott frowned. “Dude, that sucks.”  
  
“Yeah,” Isaac agreed. _Welcome to my life,_ he thought, _all of it sucks._  
  
Scott shrugged. “I’ll pay.”  
  
Isaac wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He wasn’t in the habit of relying on people for money, and even if he was he wouldn’t take any from Scott. Isaac knew he was saving up for a motorcycle instead of riding his bike everywhere. It wouldn’t be right to make Scott spend his hard-earned cash on him. “No, that’s not fair to you.”  
  
“I want to.” Scott insisted, smiling big. “C’mon, we hardly ever get to hang out outside of work.”  
  
Isaac moved on to the next cage, letting the orange tabby inside of it out to roam the floor while he worked on cleaning the litter box and spraying down the inside. He did kind of want to spend as much time with Scott as he possibly could. He just wasn’t sure.  
  
“Does Stiles know I’m coming?” Isaac asked.  
  
“I told him I’d ask you. He’s cool with it.”  
  
Isaac very much doubted that. He chewed his bottom lip, considering. “I guess I could go.”  
  
“Awesome!” Scott lit up at once, and that smile alone was worth agreeing to go.

 

* * *

 

Isaac had to call one of the house supervisors to let them know where he was going and when he would come back. He had a curfew, but he’d counted out the length of the movie and figured out that he could get back home with about half an hour to spare. It helped that Stiles was driving, and Isaac wouldn’t have to sit around waiting for a bus. Stiles wasn’t actually all that cool with him tagging along, but he at least tried to hide it and be civil. Or, well, as civil as he could manage, which wasn’t very civil at all.  
  
“You’ve never seen a Marvel movie?” Stiles asked, but it sounded like an accusation. He kept throwing glares into his rear-view mirror, narrowing his eyes at Isaac in the back. “Seriously, what is wrong with you?”  
  
It wasn’t like Isaac really got out that much. His dad used to make him work in the graveyard whenever he had any free time. He hadn’t exactly been able to go to the movies while he was in juvie either. They did have movie nights, but they mostly played animated kids movies like Wreck It Ralph and The LEGO Movie. There was something bizarre about a bunch of youth offenders siting around enjoying children’s movies.  
  
“Sorry?” Isaac offered, unsure how to placate Stiles here.  
  
“Please tell me you’ve at least seen Star Wars,” Stiles asked fervently, turning a little hard into the movie theater parking lot.  
  
“Uhh...” Isaac looked to Scott in the passenger seat and Scott grinned like all this was funny to him. “Yeah, I think. The one with the pod racing?”  
  
“Oh, Jesus.” Stiles pulled into a parking space and just in time too, because he had to make a dramatic show of thumping his head back on the head rest and rubbing his forehead like he was getting a headache. “Seeing just one of the prequels is almost worse than not seeing any of the movies at all.”  
  
Scott climbed out of the Jeep and Isaac followed suit. Stiles was last to hop out, and as he rounded on them from the other side of the car he started in on them again, giving them both dirty looks.  
  
“Now I know why you two get along so well,” he said hotly. “You’re both weirdos with bad priorities when it comes to watching movies.”  
  
Isaac felt weirdly satisfied with the notion that he got along well with Scott. Enough that Scott’s best friend had noticed and commented on it. He found himself smirking as he followed the two of them into the theater.  
  
As promised, Scott bought his ticket for him. Isaac felt a little embarrassed about it, but Stiles didn’t seem to notice and the bored teenager working the register certainly didn’t care. They had enough time to spare before the movie began to grab popcorn. Isaac was fully prepared not to get any snacks, seeing as he didn’t have any money, and he didn’t want to make Scott pay for anything else.  
  
“Want anything?” Scott asked, because of course he was that generous, as they waited in line. Stiles was ahead of them at the register with a pack of red vines.  
  
Isaac ducked his head and shook it softly. “Uh, no, that’s okay.”  
  
“Okay,” Scott smiled. “But I’m getting one of those huge buckets of popcorn and you have to help me eat it. And an Icee.”  
  
Isaac bit his bottom lip, very tempted to tell Scott he didn’t have to do that, but he had a feeling Scott would only shrug him off and do it anyway.  
  
Scott did indeed buy a massive bucket of popcorn, one that Stiles volunteered to help eat as well. He got an Icee too, cherry flavored, and asked for two straws. They made their way to their theater, treading on colorful carpet littered with half-trampled-on popcorn.  
  
Isaac should have seen it coming a mile away, he really should have, but he still wasn’t prepared for the dark lighting and close walls of the theater. He paused at the staircase leading up to their seats, heart in his throat. Stiles jogged on ahead, determined to find the perfect viewing spot. It wasn’t until Scott was three steps up that he noticed Isaac wasn’t behind him. He turned to look for him and though he found Isaac easily, it took him a couple seconds to catch on to what was happening.  
  
“You okay?” he asked, concerned.  
  
“Yeah,” Isaac lied, looking up at the high ceiling that somehow still seemed to be looming low over his head.  
  
He swallowed his nerves and trudged up after Scott. He was glad to sit down in one of the red bucket seats because his knees were feeling a little weak. Isaac tried to play it cool, but he knew Scott was looking at him from the corner of his eye, all worried and unsure.  
  
“We can go if you want?” Scott offered quietly.  
  
“What?” Stiles leaned forward, staring over Scott’s shoulder at Isaac. “No, we can’t. I’ve been waiting to see this movie all week! Do you know how many spoilers are on Twitter? I can’t wait any longer.”  
  
“Shut up, Stiles,” Scott groaned.  
  
“It’s okay.” Isaac smiled unconvincingly. “I’m okay.”  
  
“What are you, like scared of the dark or something?” Stiles asked, and maybe he meant for it to be a joke, but it hit a little too close to home to be funny. Isaac offered him a murderous glare. When no one said anything, Stiles sobered up a little. “Dude, are you really?”  
  
He wasn’t scared of the dark. “More like... claustrophobic,” Isaac muttered. Not that Stiles needed to know something so personal about him, but Isaac didn’t want to seem completely pathetic in front of either him or Scott. The label didn’t feel right, because he often found himself panicking in rooms that were big as well as small, but it was close enough to the truth.  
  
“Ahh,” Stiles nodded sagely. “No windows in here. That kind of thing freaks people out. Me, I don’t like small holes. You know, like, those lotus pod things? The worst. Or needles. Or blood.” He continued on, trailing off.  
  
Isaac hadn’t noticed that there were no windows, but now it was completely obvious. He felt more like he was shut up in a box than ever. He sank back in his seat and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and reminded himself he had plenty of air. There were no walls pressing against his shoulders, just the weight of the arm rest against his side.  
  
When he opened his eyes again he found Scott staring at him, clearly worried. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think-“  
  
“It’s okay, I didn’t either,” Isaac reassured him.  
  
Scott hesitated before schooling his features into something more neutral and less concerned. He gestured to the cherry Icee in the cup holder between them. “I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that Icees cure claustrophobia.”  
  
Isaac huffed a laugh. It was so dumb, it circled right back around to being cute and charming. “Is that so?”  
  
“Yep.” Scott nodded. “Here, come on, drink some with me.”  
  
Scott leaned in to take one of the straws between his lips and he seemed to be waiting for Isaac to lean in at the same time. Isaac hesitated for a moment before just going for it. Their faces were inches apart. They were so close he could see the little scar in Scott’s cheek and the freckle under one of his big brown eyes. They were so close they were practically kissing. Scott broke into cute laughter as they both sipped cherry red Icee in tandem.  
  
“Jesus, you two, get a room,” Stiles complained.  
  
That only made Scott laugh more. Isaac in turn blushed hot and sat back. He wasn’t sure why they just did that.  
  
“See, you feel better right?” Scott asked him.  
  
Isaac looked down, a little bashfully. “Yeah. Thanks.”  
  
It certainly was a nice distraction, and he did have warm fuzzy butterflies in his stomach instead of a sinking feeling now. He wondered if that was Scott’s intention or not. Probably not. He didn’t seem clever enough, or manipulative enough, to play on Isaac’s attraction. He didn’t even seem to realize Isaac was attracted to him at all. That was just his idea of doing something cute and fun. God, could he be any more adorable?  
  
More people filed into the theater, and the screen flickered to life with pre-show advertisements and slides of movie trivia that Stiles guessed right every time. When the previews started, the theater darkened considerably. Isaac’s pulse skyrocketed, heart jumping back up to his throat. He jerked a hand out to clutch at Scott’s arm on the arm rest. Scott glanced at him before he gently pried Isaac’s fingers from his wrist, only to hold hands with him instead.  
  
Oh, this was bad. This was so bad. The line between friends and more than friends was getting all blurry and confused. Isaac didn’t want to address it because he didn’t want this to stop. He swallowed down his confusion and instead just let it happen. He held Scott’s hand for the entire movie, and he didn’t care what it meant because it made him feel safe and good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact, this entire story was created solely bc i wanted to write the scene of isaac and scott sharing an Icee. that's it. that's all i wanted to write. and then i accidentally an entire fic.
> 
> and here's a gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://themagneto.co.vu/post/157626653396/martinlydias-top-50-platonic-ships-as-voted-by))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no new tags
> 
> thanks to my spectacular beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf). he deserves so much credit for all his hard work; way more than what i can fit in my chapter notes.

Someone abandoned a dog at the animal clinic, a big mutt that Deaton guessed was about five years old, female, and probably part-German Shepherd. When Scott and Isaac showed up to start their shift, Deaton had the dog laying comfortably on the metal exam table. There was no collar and no chip, so they had no idea where the animal had come from. The plan was to take her to a shelter. Doctor Deaton gave her an exam first. She didn’t seem mangy, or even unfriendly, but she was dirty with some matted fur and plenty of fleas.  
  
Isaac didn’t really know how to deal with animal abandonment. This had never happened so long as he’d been working here. He stayed quiet, and off to the side, watching as Deaton worked and Scott crooned over the dog. He had this sweet voice he kept using, all soft and gentle, and a look of sincere concern in his eyes. He was good at this kind of stuff. He stroked the dog’s fur in a comforting way, all the while not interfering with Deaton’s work.    
  
When he was done, Deaton told them to give the dog a flea bath and brush out the mats. He, being the only one with a car, would take her to a nearby shelter when he was finished with appointments for the day. Isaac had never given a dog any type of bath at all, much less a flea bath, so he looked to Scott to tell him what to do, but Scott was too busy worrying over the dog.  
  
“Uh, how should I get started?” he asked, a little dumbly.  
  
Deaton nodded to the door. “You can use the sink in the back room. There’s shampoo in the closet.”  
  
“The broom closet?” Isaac asked in a small voice. He really didn’t want to go anywhere near a space that small, much less inside to grab something.  
  
Scott looked up at once, pulled from his reverie over the dog. “I’ll get it,” he offered, much to Isaac’s relief.  
  
Together they went, Scott leading the dog along with them. When they stopped at the closet, Isaac stood a good few feet back. He was as wary of it now as he had been on his first day, and he was especially grateful that Scott was always the one to reach in for the mop bucket, or broom, or cleaning supplies, or whatever else they needed. With the flea shampoo in hand, the three of them made their way to the large sink in the back, usually reserved for dumping dirty mop water at the end of the night. Now, they were going to turn it into a grooming station.  
  
It was a good thing Scott knew what he was doing, because Isaac sure as hell didn’t. He didn’t know to brush out the dog’s fur first, before the bath, and he wouldn’t have thought to put a towel down in the sink to keep her paws from slipping on the stainless steel. The dog went along with all of this happily, panting complacently and looking between them as Scott worked. Isaac felt like a useless sidekick until the actual bath part happened.  
  
“I’ll hold her steady, you gotta do the rest,” Scott told him.  
  
 _The rest_ seemed to be fairly easy. Get the dog wet, apply shampoo, scrub it in, wash it off. Except as soon as the water in the sink turned on the dog damn near bolted. Scott kept his grip on her like he said he would, holding her steady, and Isaac fought a losing battle of trying to wash a dog who wanted absolutely nothing to do with water. Shampoo ended up all over the walls, even on the ceiling somehow and water was positively everywhere. It would have been frustrating if it wasn’t so funny.  
  
Trying not to laugh just made it all the harder for Scott to keep his laughter in. He managed a few minutes of nearly cracking up before actually cracking up, and once the flood gates were open Isaac gave in to laughing too. It was so weird to laugh about something so silly. Isaac couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much or this hard.  
  
Just like in every cliché of washing a dog, they ended up with more water on themselves than on the dog. More than once, she broke free of Scott’s grasp to give a full body shake that sent water flying everywhere. Luckily, she never made it further than the sink and although there was a big puddle on the floor they would need to mop up, they finished without fault.  
  
Scott toweled the dog dry, kissing her head and murmuring praise. After that, he walked her back into the exam room to give her a treat for her good behavior, not that she’d been all that cooperative. She hadn’t bitten or even growled at either of them though, so maybe she did deserve a treat after all. Isaac cleaned out the sink, the corpses of black bugs floating in the water. It was gross to think they’d been crawling all over that poor dog, and he was glad she was free of them now.  
  
Scott came trudging back in, lifting his soggy shirt over his head before he even made it through the doorway. “I have another shirt in my bag, but I don’t know what you’re going to do. I think we might have a scrub top around here somewhere.”  
  
Isaac glanced over his shoulder and was struck dumb at the image of Scott McCall, half naked and glistening wet. The water made the finer points of his bronze skin glow, shiny in the bright fluorescent lights of the back room. Isaac absolutely could not tear his eyes away from Scott’s collarbone, slick and wet.  
  
Scott didn’t seem to notice. He wandered over to the sink, to Isaac’s side, to wring out his sodden shirt over the drain. Isaac watched up close as the muscles in Scott’s arms worked, moving under skin that was beaded over with water. Scott wasn’t cut like a diamond or anything, but he did have a nice body. A body Isaac very much wanted to touch.  
  
Of course, Scott just had to glance over at him and catch him staring. He only smiled. “What?”  
  
“What?” Isaac snapped his eyes up to meet Scott’s. “Nothing.”  
  
Being shirtless didn’t matter. Not around friends. Isaac could be shirtless too and it wouldn’t mean a thing. To prove that point exactly, he unpeeled the soaked fabric from his own chest and pulled the hem up over his head, water ran down his arms as he did it. He wrung his own shirt out, water splashing down to hit the sink with a loud thud. He draped his still-damp shirt over the side of the sink to let it dry out.  
  
To Isaac’s complete surprise, he caught Scott sizing him up. It made his stomach twist in a delicious knot. Scott didn’t even bother to look away or disguise his interest. Instead he reached out for one of Isaac’s wet arms, curiously brushing his thumb over a scar there. There was no traumatic story behind that mark, it was just a scrape he’d gotten from working in the graveyard. Goosebumps raised up all over Isaac’s skin from Scott touching him so softly.  
  
They locked eyes. Isaac wanted to kiss him so fucking badly. Did Scott want to kiss him too? Had Isaac been wrong this whole time about them being just friends? The idea hit him hard and fast, and everything in his brain scrambled to reanalyze every interaction they had ever had with new clarity.  
  
Was the trip to the movies actually meant to be a date after all? Was sipping from the same Icee an invite for a kiss? Was Scott into him? Here they were half naked, staring at each other, touching each other. There was something going on here. There had to be.  
  
Isaac thought about it, and consciously concluded that this could be a massive fucking mistake, but he leaned in anyway. He pressed his mouth to Scott’s and stayed there for a moment, stock still. Scott surprised him entirely by kissing back, pushing into Isaac’s space, chasing his lips. He opened his mouth and offered it for Isaac to slip his tongue into.  
  
Scott was kissing him.  
  
 _Scott was kissing him._  
  
The kiss turned into something heated almost immediately. Isaac clasped his hands on either side of Scott’s neck, cupping his jaw. Scott reached out to touch Isaac in return but as soon as his warm hands found Isaac’s hips, he pulled away like he’d been shocked. He took a full step back, putting distance between them.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, blushing dark red. He stepped back and back and back, holding his hands up like he was trying to fend Isaac off even though Isaac wasn’t advancing on him. “I shouldn’t have done that.”  
  
Isaac wasn’t sure what had gone wrong. It had been a good kiss, hadn’t it? Scott had actively participated in it. What was he apologizing for? “Why not?” he asked carefully.  
  
Scott looked at him, radiating guilt. “Allison.”  
  
The name was like a knife through Isaac’s chest.  
  
Allison. Of fucking course. Allison. Even though she was hundreds of miles away. Even though there was no guarantee she or Scott would ever see each other again. Even though Scott himself said they weren’t actually dating anymore; that he just had ‘a thing going on with the girl I like and it’s really complicated’.  
  
Isaac was silent for a moment before he laughed, a short noise that had none of the joy or happiness from when he had been laughing earlier. “I’m such an idiot.”  
  
Scott flinched like that sentiment hurt him more than it hurt Isaac. He hurried to disagree. “No-“  
  
Isaac talked right over him. “Such a fucking idiot. So fucking dumb.” God, he knew it would be a mistake. He knew it and he did it anyway. He couldn’t do a single goddamned thing right. He shouldn’t have kissed Scott, shouldn’t have followed him around everywhere like a lost puppy every day since he met him, shouldn’t have ever assumed he had a chance. He took his damp shirt from the sink and made for the door.  
  
Scott seemed to hesitate before following, calling after him. “It’s not that I don’t like you... I... I do.” That just made Isaac feel even worse. “But things with Allison are complicated, I can’t just go around kissing other people. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”  
  
“Stop.” Isaac didn’t want to hear this. He’d been rejected. He understood perfectly. Knowing the details of why Scott didn’t want him didn’t really make him feel any better.  
  
He pulled his wet shirt over his head. It was cold and gross, but he couldn’t very well storm out half naked. When he emerged from the soggy fabric he saw that Scott had hustled to get in front of him and face him. Isaac was furious with him for still being shirtless, and furious with himself for still finding him impossibly hot.  
  
“Isaac.” Scott looked absolutely miserable.  
  
“I said stop,” Isaac warned. His voice sounded cold and he regretted his tone immediately, even in his anger. He closed his eyes and drew in a breath to settle himself. “I made a mistake. Forget it ever happened.” He pushed past Scott and left him standing there. Alone.

 

* * *

 

The cold weather outside bit hard into his wet skin. He grit his teeth and trudged against the cutting wind to the relative safety of the bus shelter. He was shivering uselessly by the time he sat down.  
  
This was the first time he’d ever waited for the bus at this stop without Scott. For some stupid reason that made an ugly sobbing noise escape Isaac’s chest. He fought his own tears valiantly. He didn’t want to start crying; not here, not now.  
  
He had told himself again and again that Scott was just going to be his friend, and that was that. He shouldn’t have leaned in for a kiss. He should have known better. He was a stupid fucking idiot. Always had been, always would be. This was just another miserable mistake to add to the list of all the dumb shit he’d done in his life.  
  
What hurt the most was that Scott actually liked him. Or, he said he did. They had all the potential in the world to be together, but Isaac had been too late. That part wasn’t even his fault. It wasn’t fair. Nothing in his shitty life was fair. He tried not to think about that, about all the horrible things he’d had to endure that he had absolutely no say in.  
  
Scott was the only good thing to happen to him in years. Even if Isaac hadn’t fucked everything up, the deck was still stacked against him. They would never be together because the world was dark, and rotten, and full of bad things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://stephen-amell.tumblr.com/post/134355511496/teen-wolf-i-watch-for-the-plot))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no new tags
> 
> thank you to my astonishing beta, subwaywolf! he's cooler and better than me at basc everything and he makes all my fanfic cooler and better too c:

“Is everything alright, Isaac?” Marin asked him, hands folded neatly on her desk.  
  
Isaac couldn’t come up with a reason to hate her today. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t all that bad, all things considered. She was just doing her job. It wasn’t her fault he hated talking about himself.  
  
“Yeah,” he said flatly. “Fine.”  
  
She obviously didn’t believe that. “If something is bothering you, this is the place to talk about it.”  
  
He blew out a breath, long and slow, leaning back in the chair he was sitting in. He stared at the figurine of the Eiffel Tower on her desk. He thought of literally anything else than his own life and his own problems. He wondered what France was like. Maybe he could go there some day. Run away from all this shit, the nightmare that was Beacon Hills.  
  
“Is this about the hearing?” she asked.  
  
Isaac made a face. “No.” That had been weeks ago. He still hadn’t talked to her about it.  
  
Marin nodded, moving right along, though he knew she wouldn’t give up on the topic. It would come up in the next session, and every session after that until he talked. She offered a change of subject.  “Let’s talk about how school has been for you.”  
  
Isaac looked bleakly across the desk at her. “Fine.”  
  
“Work?”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Marin sighed, though even that small display of frustration was minuscule. She kept her face flat and expression neutral.  
  
Isaac decided to throw her a bone. “Sometimes I think about visiting the graveyard,” he told her, off hand. It was the first thing to come to mind.  
  
It was true, too. He didn’t miss working there, and he absolutely never wanted to go back to his old house on the outskirts of the graveyard ever again. He did miss sitting by the Hale graves though, especially around this time of year when the weather was cool, and the leaves were all turning orange. It was kind of peaceful there. It was the last place he remembered being happy besides being with Scott, and it just hurt too much right now to think about Scott.  
  
“Really?” Marin urged him on. She probably knew he was circling around whatever real issues he had, but since getting Isaac to talk was like pulling teeth she rolled with it when he willingly gave her something. “Feeling nostalgic?”  
  
Isaac cocked up an eyebrow. No, he wasn’t nostalgic for the time in his life where he lived in terror and was beaten daily. Not at all. The graveyard had been a relatively safe place for him back then. He could lose himself in his work, his father rarely bothered him if he was busy, and certain sections of it were pretty.  
  
He wondered what would happen if he went back there with a whole new set of problems. Would it still feel peaceful? Could it still be a safe space? Or would returning there be regression? Would going back bring up dark memories and feelings he didn’t want to think about ever again?  
  
This was probably the kind of thing he should talk to Marin about. Instead, he shrugged. “Yeah. Sure. Nostalgic.”

 

* * *

 

Isaac avoided the science wing like it was infested with plague-carrying rats. Stiles’ locker was there; it seemed to be the place he and Scott congregated in the mornings and between classes. It was easy to take different routes through other hallways to where he needed to go, so that’s what Isaac did.  
  
In an effort to avoid Scott and Stiles at lunch, he took his food out into the courtyard to eat. The weather had turned cold for Beacon Hills, and most kids had given up braving the chill for the comfort of the cafeteria instead. A few kids soldiered through the weather to sit at the concrete tables that the midday sun warmed. Isaac brought a big hoodie and shivered at a cold table under the shade of an oak tree. It was fine.  
  
Isaac would have sat with Erica and Boyd, but Scott and Stiles had taken to sitting at the end of that table. It would be too close not to be awkward. He naively hoped that Erica and Boyd would come sit with him in the courtyard, but they didn’t. Either it was too cold out there for them, or they just weren’t good enough of friends. Either way, Isaac understood.  
  
He kept his head down during chemistry. Scott hadn’t tried to approach him, thank God. He did look over his shoulder to stare longingly at Isaac like he wanted to say something, but Isaac resolutely ignored him. He hurried out of class when it was over, putting as much distance between himself and Scott as possible.  
  
He wasn’t angry at Scott. Not really. It just hurt too much. It hurt to know that he couldn’t have him. It hurt that Isaac still wanted him. He should have put distance between them that very first night, when he realized he had a crush. He should have put distance between them any of the other times after that when he realized he was in too deep and possibly making a mistake. It might be too little too late by now, but putting distance between them was necessary.  
  
Isaac and Scott used to share duties at the vet clinic, but now it was all different. If Scott went to clean out the cat cages, Isaac went for the dog kennels. If Scott started stocking the exam room, Isaac went to count inventory. If Scott started mopping the floors, Isaac would duck into the file room to work on the file conversion project. He fucking hated being in that tiny room alone and it stressed him out to no end, but he just absolutely could not deal with Scott.  
  
One night, Isaac looked into the far exam room where Scott was supposed to be stocking the supply closet. Instead, he found Scott sitting on the floor with his pre-Bio book on his knees. He was staring hopelessly at the pages, clearly confused. Isaac’s heart twisted up in his chest. He fought every urge he had to go in, sit down by Scott’s side, and help him. He wanted to so badly, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.  
  
Whenever they were at work, Scott would send long, mournful looks in Isaac’s direction. It was clear this was as miserable for him as it was for Isaac, but he had gotten the hint to stay away. At the end of the night, Isaac made a habit of waiting for Scott to get on his bike and ride off on his own before he emerged from the clinic to walk to the bus stop by himself. Deaton gave them curious looks but didn’t say a thing.  
  
Isaac thought it was all going pretty well until one afternoon, a week and four days after their sordid kiss (not that Isaac was counting), when Scott stood hovering in the exam room doorway while Isaac mopped the hall floors. He just stood and watched. Isaac could feel eyes on him. He tried hard to ignore it, but it was easier said than done.  
  
Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore. He stopped and stood up straight, looking down the hall at Scott. “What?”  
  
Scott hesitated. “Uhm... I talked to Allison-”  
  
Isaac winced like hearing the name pained him, and it kind of did. It wasn’t her fault, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Still, she was the reason he had been rejected. “Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t talk to me about her. Please.”  
  
Scott looked heartbroken and confused for a moment before he nodded gently. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just... I miss you.”  
  
Those words pained him, too. “Yeah, well,” he began with a note of bitterness in his voice. “I miss you too, but looking at you right now is like being stabbed in the chest, so it’s going to take me some time to come around.”  
  
Scott frowned deeply. “I’m sorry,” he said again.  
  
Isaac thought maybe he should tell him that it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault, and that he didn’t need to apologize. Instead he thrusted the mop head into the bucket of water to get it wet. “Me, too,” he muttered under his breath, carrying on with his work.

 

* * *

 

Isaac stared across the room at Noah’s bed. Noah’s back was turned to him as he slept. Even though the lights were out, and it was late at night, enough light filtered in from the window that Isaac could see the Nirvana baby, perpetually floating in that pool, chasing that dollar. His constant companion. Isaac was so miserable he couldn't sleep. He didn't even know why. Scott was a part of it, but it wasn’t just Scott.  
  
It was being happy, and that happiness being taken away. Again. How many times did this have to happen to him? He had a decent father once, but Cam’s death took that away. He had a good, caring older brother but the war in Iraq took that away. He had a good friend and potential boyfriend, but circumstance took that from him as well.  
  
What sucked the most was that he wished he could talk to Scott about all this. He knew, logically, that he could talk to Marin, or Bennett, or any of the house supervisors if he wanted to. He could probably even call up the Sheriff and pour his heart out to him. He seemed like the type of guy who would at least refrain from hanging up the phone. He could even go back to the stupid cemetery and sit in front of Talia Hale’s grave and whisper all his secrets like he used to do when Derek Hale was there to hear them.  
  
He didn’t want to do any of that, though. He didn’t want to talk to any of them. He wanted Scott.  
  
Masochistically, Isaac took out his phone. The screen was a little bright in the dark of the room, but it was only an old Motorola, so it didn’t have the same blinding glow that most iPhones did. He clicked through to his messages and stared at the recent texts from Scott. Although he refrained from approaching Isaac in person, he still filled up Isaac’s inbox with apologies and requests to talk and quick little notes where he said he hoped Isaac was okay or having a good day.  
  
His phone screen blurred as burning hot tears filled his eyes. They rolled down his face. One spilled over his nose and dripped down to his pillow. He reached up to swipe at it. He didn’t sniffle or sob or cry out, he just started leaking tears and he couldn’t stop. Isaac hadn’t responded to any of those messages. He should probably just fucking delete them, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He snapped his phone shut and stared over at the Nirvana baby as he cried.  
  
Happy memories of the times he had spent with Scott haunted him, a new and very painful addition to all the memories that kept him up at night. Isaac wondered if he deserved this, for being such a fucking idiot. He probably did. That didn’t make it hurt any less, and it didn’t stop him crying.

 

* * *

 

“Hey!”  
  
The book Isaac had been holding in his cold fingers suddenly wasn’t in his hands anymore. He glanced up, squinting out at the looming figure of Stiles Stilinski where he stood at the concrete lunch table. Stiles slapped the paperback book down, closed, and Isaac had half a second to be annoyed because he hadn’t marked his place before Stiles was tearing into him.  
  
“Whatever you said to Scott, whatever you did. Undo it. I mean it. He’s more miserable now than he was when Allison moved away last year-“ Isaac grimaced at the sound of her name. “- and that’s saying something. Whatever lesson you were trying to teach him with the whole silent treatment, he’s learned it, and he’s mopey all the time now so just apologize or forgive him and move on! Enough is enough, already.”  
  
Isaac scowled deeply. “I didn’t do anything.”  
  
“Whatever!” Stiles threw his hands up in frustration. “It doesn’t matter!”  
  
It did matter. It was no use trying to argue this with Stiles. He didn’t get it, and Isaac certainly wasn’t going to explain it to the likes of him. He just sighed deeply and reached for his book to try and find the page he’d been reading. Stiles slapped his hand down on the cover. He opened his loud fucking mouth to go off again, but Isaac couldn’t take another round of Stiles’ ire.  
  
“Why do you even care?” Isaac snapped. “I’m just a thief, some juvie kid. You’re the one who told him not to talk to me. Isn’t this what you wanted?”  
  
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re an asshole, and you avoiding him like this only proves my point, but for some reason he likes you. You make him happy. Or, you did. So, fix this, because Scott of all people doesn’t deserve to be this sad all the time.”  
  
Isaac swallowed hard, feeling more miserable and guiltier than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://clintshawk.tumblr.com/post/80608820464/isaac-stiles-getting-enough-of-your-shit))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags have been updated to include mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts. one new character has been added; derek hale. hi derek.
> 
> also thank you to my phenomenal beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf)! the time, effort, work and labor he puts into making my fanfiction better could not possibly be appreciated more!

Isaac bit his bottom lip, hesitating where he stood outside the room with the cat cages. The wooden door had a slim window in it, and he could see Scott inside sweet talking the kittens as he cleaned. He still wasn’t ready for this, but his only talent in life was making disastrous mistakes so he might as well go on and make another.  
  
He eased open the door. A grey cat noticed the movement and started for the crack in the doorway to dart out into the hallway. Isaac scooped down to pick her up as he shuffled inside. He closed the door behind him and stood there, a little awkwardly, scratching the cat’s chin.  
  
Scott turned to look at him and smiled hopefully. “Hi.”  
  
“Hey,” Isaac said back.  
  
They went quiet after that. Scott went back to work but turned so that his shoulder was to Isaac instead of his back, and he kept looking over at him, waiting for something.  
  
Isaac didn’t really know what to say. “This sucks,” he offered, hoping those two words would convey everything he was feeling. How he was confused and hurt and missed Scott and didn’t know what to do about it.  
  
“Yeah,” Scott agreed, seemingly relieved that Isaac felt the same way. “I’m sorry about the kiss,” he added, a little sheepishly.  
  
Isaac nodded. “Me, too.” The cat in his arms squirmed a little so he set her down on the floor.  
  
“I didn’t mean to make things all... weird,” Scott said. He stopped cleaning and turned to look at Isaac instead. He looked like he wanted to say more, but since things were still tenuous he wasn’t pushing it.  
  
“It’s okay. I probably would have made things weird somehow anyway.” Isaac shrugged. “I’m always screwing things up.”  
  
“Dude,” Scott looked almost angry for a second there, but his expression melted back into concern near instantly. “Don’t say stuff like that. It’s not true. The other day when you... after it happened, or whatever, and you said you were an idiot. I hated hearing that.”  
  
“Sorry,” Isaac murmured. Despite himself, he smiled. It was just a small, soft smile. He’d missed this; he’d missed the way Scott’s believed in him and cared about him. He was like a bright ray of sunshine, all warm and good. These last few days had been so dark, and Isaac had no idea how much he’d missed the sun.  
  
He hesitated for just a moment before speaking again. “I don’t want to do this anymore, this _avoiding you_ thing. I miss talking to you. Can we, uh, just, like, forget about being upset with each other and hug it out?”  
  
Scott beamed. He didn’t even have to say yes. He closed the short distance between them and wrapped Isaac up in a big, huge hug. Isaac hugged him back, and it only hurt a little bit that they were back to being just friends. Being friends was better than not having him in his life at all, though, so Isaac took it.  
  
When he pulled away, Scott looked up into Isaac’s eyes, still smiling. “So, we’re good now? Can we hang out again?”  
  
“Yeah,” Isaac allowed. “Sure.”  
  
“Oh, good.” He waited a beat before asking. “Want to come hang out with me and Stiles tomorrow?”

 

* * *

 

Isaac thought that hanging out with Scott and Stiles would include going to the movies again, or possibly playing video games at one of their houses. What he didn’t expect was a visit to the nature preserve. He knew kids at school liked to go there, to drive through the dense woods and park somewhere secluded. In the privacy of the preserve, they could do some underage drinking, or making out, or whatever it was teenagers got up to. Some of them, innocently, only wanted to go deer-spotting. Isaac wasn’t exactly sure why he, Scott, and Stiles were going.  
  
“Wait, so, why are we going to the preserve?” Isaac asked from the backseat of Stiles’ Jeep.  
  
“Because, Isaac! It’s a full moon tonight,” Stiles told him.  
  
“Uh-huh,” Isaac nodded. “And, uh, what does that mean?”  
  
“It means-!” Stiles was all excited energy in the front seat. “Weird stuff is gonna happen. Bigfoot’s gonna came out of his cave. UFOs are going to fly over Beacon Hills. An Eichen House patient could escape and come running through the woods!”  
  
Isaac wasn’t sure he wanted to encounter Bigfoot, or any other large animals that could be mistaken for Bigfoot. He definitely didn’t want to run into an Eichen House patient out in the middle of the woods either. And UFOs? Did Stiles really believe in Aliens?  
  
“Are you serious?” Isaac asked, and then looked to Scott in the passenger seat. “Is he serious?”  
  
Scott had a goofy grin on his face. “We’re just gonna go hang out in the woods. It’s more fun than hanging out at my place or his place when our parents are home.”  
  
“Hey!” Stiles reached over to give Scott a smack on the shoulder. “Don’t ruin the fun.”  
  
As he spoke, he pulled into a gas station, the last one before they would reach the preserve. After this, the road would change from asphalt to gravel to dirt. It was probably a good idea to fuel up. No one wanted to run out of gas in the middle of the woods.  
  
“You two are in charge of provisions.” Stiles told them before shouldering his door open and clambering out of the car with his gangly long legs.  
  
“Provisions?” Isaac looked helplessly at Scott.  
  
“Snacks.” Scott grinned, before climbing out his side.  
  
Isaac didn’t have any money, but he supposed he could help make decisions. He opened the back-seat door and got out. It wasn’t even that late, but already the sun was setting. Winter was coming soon, and it made the days shorter. The last of the sunlight was cresting over the nearby mountains that gave Beacon Hills its name. The entire gas station was bathed in golden light, long shadows stretching across the grey concrete ground.  
  
Isaac went to cut through the gas pumps to get to the convenience store when he noticed one of the other cars there. A black Camaro. His heart jumped up into his throat and he froze.  
  
“...Isaac?”  
  
Isaac’s chest ached. That... that was Derek’s voice.  
  
“Jesus, is that you?” Derek came circling around his car, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever. He was still wearing the same black leather jacket he always wore. Isaac stared stupidly at it, remembering all the times he’d rested his head on Derek’s leather-clad shoulder or clutched at Derek’s arm, hugging the black jacket sleeve to his chest.  
  
Derek seemed just about as shocked to see him as Isaac felt. He reached out for Isaac like he didn’t believe he was real, grabbing onto his shoulders and staring hard at his face. He took in all the details, hazel eyes flitting all over Isaac’s features. Isaac did the same. Derek was all covered in scruff now, five o’clock shadow painting his face. He’d always been clean-shaven when he came to the cemetery. Dumbly, Isaac reached out to touch his cheek and feel the stiff, bristly hair there.  
  
“I thought you were dead.” Derek breathed the words, full of disbelief. His tone quickly shifted to something that sounded distinctly hard and serious. “I went to the graveyard and you weren’t there. Day after day... you didn’t come back. I had no idea what happened.”  
  
“Dead?” Isaac repeated with wide eyes. That actually kind of made sense. He had spent half of his time with Derek saying he wished he wasn’t alive anymore. Derek probably figured he’d gone and killed himself. If not that, then Isaac’s father could have easily finished him off. “No, I’m still here,” he added, as if that wasn’t plain to see.  
  
“Thank God.” Derek jerked him in for a hard hug, all stiff and rough.  
  
Isaac was a little confused by these aggressive displays of affection. Derek wasn’t really a touchy-feely kind of guy. He usually didn’t talk this much, either. He had always been stoic and silent; a rock. That was exactly what Isaac had needed back then.  
  
It occurred to him just how many people Derek had lost in his life, and how hard it would be for him to lose someone else. Even if Isaac had just been some odd kid who bugged him at the graveyard, all pitiful and pathetic and embarrassingly in love, his sudden absence must have hit Derek hard.  
  
When they pulled apart, Derek was still touching him, holding onto his upper arms like he didn’t want Isaac to get away.  
  
“I’m sorry. I should have found a way to tell you.” He was unsure how to explain what had happened. “I… that night, after my dad saw us together, I ran. I took off. I stole my brother’s car and I was going to drive as far as I could and never come back.” Derek seemed somewhat amused by this, though he didn’t smile. He never smiled. “It didn’t work. Obviously. I crashed it and got arrested for joyriding. I was in juvie for months.”  
  
Derek’s eyebrows went up, expressing surprise better than his words ever could.  
  
“My dad, he’s in prison now.” Isaac said. “For all the things he did to me.”  
  
“Good,” Derek told him, gripping him hard.  
  
Derek knew about the abuse better than anyone. He’d been there to see the bruises first hand. He’d been Isaac’s only confidant when it was happening. Isaac had poured his heart out to him again and again. He felt awful for it now. Derek had only ever come to the cemetery to mourn his family, and he got stuck dealing with a traumatized teenager instead. Maybe he didn’t mind. Maybe his family’s graves weren’t the soul reason he kept coming back. Maybe he went to see Isaac, to be with him, to make sure he was still alive.  
  
“What about you?” Isaac asked, hopefully. “Are you doing okay?”  
  
All expression instantly left Derek’s features and instead he looked blank. His resting face had a hard, aggressive edge to it. Someone else might confuse it for anger, but Isaac saw it for what it was; closed off. “Laura's dead.”  
  
“Holy shit,” Isaac gasped. He'd never met Laura, but he knew that she was Derek's older sister and one of the few family members he had left.  
  
“My uncle killed her,” Derek added, emotionless voice going low as if he was trying to keep this quiet, just between the two of them. He said it like he was stating a fact, like it didn’t hurt him at all, but Isaac knew better.  
  
“…Holy shit.” Isaac said again, now in horror instead of in surprise. “Oh, Derek. Fuck. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”  
  
Derek set his jaw and offered a sharp nod.   
  
It was all so awful, Isaac didn't even know where to begin. Derek's uncle was a killer? Laura was dead? How fucked up was that? She was one of very few family members who managed to survive the fire that decimated the Hales and yet she died anyway. As if burying siblings and cousins and nieces and nephews and his own parents wasn’t painful enough, now he had to add another body to the Hale plots in the cemetery.   
  
Isaac suddenly remembered why he’d always felt so comfortable with Derek. They were both so immensely fucked up. Their lives were complete messes. Back then, it made him feel less lonely, to know that there was someone out there with a life as miserable as his own, if not worse. Now, it just made him sad.  
  
Isaac had missed Derek, sure. He had thought about him from time to time after the night of the crash. As good as it was to see him, to know how he was doing, Isaac didn’t want to go back to the way things were. He didn’t want to wallow in their shared sadness and misfortune ever again. It hurt too much. Back before the crash, Derek was all he had. It wasn’t like that anymore.  
  
All at once, Isaac realized where they were and what they were doing. For a few minutes there, the whole world had melted away and all he could see was Derek. Now he noticed Scott hovering awkwardly by the convenience store door, listening, and he could feel Stiles’ presence at another pump as he watched the exchange. A car pulled in to the parking lot. The sun sank lower behind the mountains.  
  
Isaac looked at Scott. He was the complete opposite of Derek; bright and full of happiness. He wore his heart on his sleeve, emotion bursting from him in everything he did. That was who he needed in his life now. That was who he wanted to be with.  
  
“Sorry, I... I guess we were both on our way somewhere. I’m actually on my way to visit the preserve with my friends,” he told Derek, and then laughed a little. “I’ve got friends now.” Not just Stiles and Scott, but Erica and Boyd too. Before, Isaac had no one. Derek was his only shoulder to cry on, literally. It felt good to recognize this tangible difference from the way things were.  
  
Derek seemed to appreciate this new turn in Isaac’s life. A barely-there ghost of a smile replaced the blank slate of his face. That was as good as a ringing endorsement from him.  
  
“It was good to see you, though,” Isaac said, sincerely. Part of him wanted to go with Derek, to hop in the Camaro and ride off into the sunset the way he had always hoped would happen. Just a small part, though. A bigger part knew he would be much happier climbing into Stiles’ shitty Jeep and spending the evening with Scott instead. “Can I, uhm, have your number or something? So we can let each other know we’re not dead.”  
  
Derek hesitated a moment before nodding. They both took out their phones and exchanged numbers. Isaac wasn’t sure if he’d ever really text or call Derek, but it seemed like the right thing to do. This way he didn’t feel like he was casting Derek completely aside. His number would be there if they ever wanted, or needed, to contact each other ever again.  
  
Isaac gave him one last hug, surprising Derek by pulling him in tight. It was a goodbye hug, and he was sure they both knew it. When he pulled away he took a deep breath, smiled, and walked on. He met Scott by the convenience store doors and they went inside together.  
  
Scott, wisely, didn’t say anything. He seemed unsure how to play off the deep conversation Isaac had just had in the parking lot of a gas station with someone who was essentially a stranger to him. Still, he did his best to be casual and friendly as they picked out their snacks. Of course, he paid. When they got back outside the Camaro was gone, Derek with it. Stiles was waiting in the jeep, thumbs drumming on the wheel.  
  
“Okay,” Stiles said, as Isaac and Scott climbed in. “Please tell me that insanely hot dude you were just talking to is single.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://mieczyhale.tumblr.com/post/168442800910/teen-wolf-derek-hale-in-every-episode-s1-03))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no new tags
> 
> also, thank you to my awesome beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf)! the greatest beta-reading laureate of our time, who i have the distinct honor of working with. his excellence and abilities know no bounds!

Hugging it out didn’t exactly fix things. Isaac was probably naive to think it would. While his routine reverted to how things were before their kiss, Scott didn’t.  
  
Isaac went back to sitting with Scott and Stiles every day in the cafeteria. He was especially happy about that because sitting outside in the cold had been miserable. Erica and Boyd migrated from the opposite end of the table and the five of them sat clustered together like an actually happy group of friends.  
  
Isaac and Scott went back to working side-by-side at the animal clinic. Scott walked him to the bus stop at the end of their shifts. It was supposed to be all well and good. But... it wasn’t.  
  
Scott was awkward with him now. Isaac was used to being the awkward one, so it was throwing him off balance to have to do things like make up for the quiet lapses in conversation. He wasn’t good at that kind of stuff. It helped when Erica or Stiles were around; Boyd not so much because he was the strong silent type. Isaac truly never thought he would be grateful for Stiles, but he was. Whenever he was alone with Scott, it was painfully obvious that things weren’t the same.  
  
It was little stuff, like the way Scott didn’t sit right up close to him anymore, or lay his head on Isaac’s shoulder, or reach out to touch him. Scott had been the one to ask him if they could hang out again, but after that first outing to the preserve he hadn’t asked Isaac over to his house or anywhere else.  
  
He knew Scott and Stiles had hung out. They had binge-watched some Netflix show at Scott’s house and talked about it all the next day at lunch. Isaac tried not to be too hurt that he didn’t get an invite. He reasoned with himself that it was probably a second season of something, and he would have been lost if he tried to watch it with them because he hadn’t seen the first season, but it still didn’t feel good to be excluded.  
  
Even worse was when Stiles invited Isaac to come and watch lacrosse practice. Kids who had friends on the team liked to congregate on the bleachers and watch the drills and practice games. Anyone could come and watch if they wanted, but if a student was dating a lacrosse player it was almost expected that they be there.  
  
As soon as Stiles suggested this, Scott immediately cut in and told Isaac he didn’t have to come if he didn’t want to. It became painfully clear that Scott didn’t want to be around him, and when they were together he did the bare minimum of being friendly and conversational. He was still nice - Scott was _always_ nice - it was just... strained. Awkward. Weird. Uncomfortable.  
  
Even Erica noticed something was wrong. She pulled Isaac aside after lunch to shoot straight with him. “What’s up with you and your boy toy?” she asked.  
  
Isaac could only sigh. “He’s not my... boy toy.”  
  
“Yeah, not any more. He used to hang all over you, now he barely looks at you.”  
  
Isaac winced to hear her say that. At least he knew now that he wasn’t imaging things if she was picking up on them, too. Not that it made him feel any better.  
  
Isaac had been perfectly fine with participating in his own self-imposed silent treatment, but he was having a hard time now that the tables were turned and it was Scott avoiding him. Before, he had known precisely what was wrong between them. Now, he had no idea what was wrong. Scott had said they could be friends again, but he wasn’t acting like it. The more time they spent together, the more it scared Isaac how wrong things felt.  
  
Was this residual discomfort from their kiss? Or was it something else? Had he done something wrong? Was Scott angry at him? The idea made Isaac sick to his stomach. He had to get to the bottom of this somehow.

 

* * *

 

“Are you mad at me?” Isaac blurted out in the middle of walking to the bus stop.  
  
Scott’s eyes went big. “What? Dude, no!”  
  
That resolutely did not help. Isaac’s stomach twisted in a nervous knot. He wanted to agree, to drop it, to let it go at that. He also wanted to know what was wrong, because even though Scott said he wasn’t mad, he was still acting weird.  
  
Isaac summoned up his courage and pressed the issue. “You’ve been acting different since the night at the preserve.”  
  
Isaac hadn’t really noticed it then. After leaving the gas station, Stiles was too busy amusing the both of them with conspiracy theories and cryptid information for Scott and Isaac to be awkward. He had noticed it afterwards though; every single time they were together.  
  
“Is this because we kissed?” Isaac continued, words bubbling out of him nervously. “Because, I can forget about that. I’ll just be your friend. I won’t make a move on you again. I promise.”  
  
Scott grimaced like that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Even though they were walking side by side, Scott’s bike in between them, Isaac caught the expression from the corner of his eye and it put a new fear in him. He was upsetting Scott. He was fucking this up. Oh, this was bad. This was so fucking bad.  
  
“No, it’s not like that.” Scott said slowly. “I... I just. I don’t know.”  
  
Isaac nervously ran his fingers through his hair and then flattened his mussed curls back down. He didn’t know what that meant. His heart was hammering in his chest now, and he didn’t think he could push for more answers. He had absolutely run the limit on his bravery when it came to facing this problem. Scott was so important to him. The idea of falling out with him was too terrifying to imagine.  
  
They reached the bus stop, and even though it was warmer inside with the Plexiglas walls to cut the wind, Isaac wasn’t sure he could fit himself in a somewhat small space with Scott just then. He lingered by the side of the structure, watching as Scott parked his bike against it.  
  
Scott turned to look over his shoulder at Isaac and whatever he saw on Isaac’s face made him sigh. “Okay, you know how you stopped and talked to that guy at the gas station?” he asked.  
  
Isaac frowned in confusion. “Derek?” What did Derek have to do with anything?  
  
“Yeah, him.” Scott shrugged, as if he would know the stranger’s name. “Just, like, the way he touched you and hugged you and you reached out for him and stuff...” he trailed off. “I don’t know. It made me jealous.”  
  
Jealous.  
  
Jealous?  
  
Isaac blinked. His fear and anxiety slowly drained from him as he considered this new information. Scott McCall was jealous? He was jealous of Derek, of all people? That was ridiculous. Isaac and Derek probably weren’t even going to see each other ever again.  
  
“I... what?” Isaac was baffled.  
  
“Listen, if you want to be friends, that’s cool.” Scott promised him. “But, I talked to Allison. We both agreed when she moved away that we weren’t dating anymore. We both knew that dating other people, or whatever, was a possibility. I just never thought I would want anyone else but then you... and then we kissed... and then you were, like, touching that dude’s face.”  
  
Isaac suddenly remembered the last time Scott had told him ‘I talked to Allison’. It had only been a week or so after their kiss. Isaac had cut him off because he was sure it would be bad news, but this was different. This was very different. To think they could have cleared things up earlier and saved themselves some trouble if only Isaac had been willing to listen.  
  
He was such an idiot. He was always doing dumb things; always fucking things up. Isaac closed his eyes in an effort not to roll them at himself and his own actions. He resisted calling himself an idiot out loud because he knew Scott wouldn’t like that.  
  
“So, you’re not with her,” Isaac said after a moment, as if asking for confirmation.  
  
Scott, who had been shyly looking at his feet, glanced up and nodded.  
  
“And you’re jealous of me being with another guy,” Isaac added, again looking to make sure he understood what was going on here.  
  
Scott bashfully glanced away before croaking out “Yeah.”  
  
“And the reason neither of us are making moves on each other right now is because...?”  
  
Scott’s eyes darted back over to him. “You said you wanted to be friends.”  
  
Isaac scoffed. “I only said that because I thought _you_ wanted to be friends.”  
  
True understanding was beginning to dawn on the both of them. They probably had more to say here, more to discuss about everything, but instead they both instinctually moved in closer to one another. Isaac reached out to touch Scott, fingers finding the side of his neck. His stomach flipped nervously as he leaned in for a kiss. He indicated his intentions plainly, giving Scott time to move away if he didn’t want it. Scott didn’t move away.  
  
They kissed. It was gentle and soft. He pulled back to see that Scott’s eyes were closed. Isaac watched as a slow smile spread on his face. It made Isaac smile too.  
  
“Can we... can we do that again?” Scott asked hopefully. His eyes fluttered open.  
  
Isaac moved in again, cupping Scott’s jaw with both hands as they kissed a second time. It felt so good. It was the best feeling in the world just to be able to kiss him.  
  
After a moment of soft kissing, Isaac moved to press their foreheads together. It was nice just to be in Scott’s space, to feel the warmth of his body, to hold him close. He had wanted this for months, ever since they had started working together, and now he had it. He felt lighter already, the weight of his worry about why Scott had been acting funny slid right off his shoulders. He was suddenly warm and full of happiness instead.  
  
“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” he asked, hopefully.  
  
“Yeah,” Scott smiled and nodded a little. “If you want.”  
  
“I do want,” Isaac whispered.  
  
“Can I take you out? On a date?” Scott asked, words edged with excitement at the prospect.  
  
Isaac grinned. “Yes.” That sounded amazing.  
  
They sealed their newly cemented relationship status with another kiss, and then another. Isaac opened his mouth and soon tasted Scott’s tongue with his own. It made his stomach flip again, in the best way. They stayed there kissing each other until the bus finally came. Isaac was sad to pull away, but he found himself smiling as he fed his fare into the meter and sat down in an empty seat.  
  
He had a boyfriend.  
  
 _Scott_ was his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no new tags
> 
> thanks to my excellent beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf) for everything he does for me! (insert gif of lady gaga saying 'talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, showstopping, spectacular' here)

Isaac came down the stairs, backpack slung over one shoulder. He glanced into the living room to see Lori and her brother Brett sitting in front of the television. Lori had her schoolwork spread out in front of her on the coffee table, while Brett ignored everything in favor of his phone.  
  
The supervisors confused Brett and Isaac with each other sometimes. They were both tall with blonde hair and blue eyes, but they weren’t _that_ similar. It drove Isaac nuts whenever it happened, not that he ever bothered to speak up or say anything about it. It just solidified the idea that this place wasn’t home. The people taking care of him couldn’t even remember his name.  
  
“Have you guys seen Bennett?” Isaac asked.  
  
Brett continued to ignore him in favor of his phone. Lori looked up, pen in hand. “I think he’s helping with laundry.”  
  
“Thanks.” Isaac nodded to her before turning and staring down the next flight of stairs into the basement. He steeled his nerves, reminding himself that there was no fridge down there. He descended slowly, cautiously, each step a little harder for him than the last. He didn’t mind it down here, exactly, but he certainly avoided it if he could.  
  
It wasn’t a finished basement, but it also wasn’t creepy or ominous either. There were windows in the upper corners of the room that let white light shine in, and while the ceiling had exposed beams there was plaster on the walls. The washing machine and dryer were both down here, along with a couple of storage containers.  
  
Isaac had never bothered to pry into any of the containers, but once while doing a load of laundry he noticed a tote labeled with a piece of masking tape and the letters ‘XMAS’. He shuddered to think about what Christmas was like in a group home. Probably better than his dad getting all depressed or manic and telling Isaac through clenched teeth that Camden and his mother should still be here. He supposed he’d find out soon enough. It was only a few months away…  
  
Bennett and Meredith were both downstairs. He was helping her with the laundry, just like Lori said. Isaac stopped to wonder if maybe he should go talk to a supervisor that was less busy, but he decided against it. He liked Bennett best out of everyone and knew he could get what he wanted out of him.  
  
“Is it alright if I go to a friend’s house?” Isaac asked.  
  
Bennett glanced over at him from where he was loading the washing machine with towels. Meredith specifically went out of her way to move so that she could get a look at Isaac too. Isaac tried not to be bothered by her staring at him all the time, but it was kind of hard not to.  
  
“Homework done?” Bennett asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Isaac shifted his bag off his shoulder like he was going to pull his English essay out and show it off.  
  
“Room clean?” Bennett continued.  
  
“Yeah,” Isaac nodded, he had his backpack in his hands but stopped before unzipping it.  
  
“Chores done?”  
  
“Yeah.” Isaac had been tasked with cleaning the bathrooms this week, one of the less appealing jobs. He much preferred sweeping the floors or washing dishes. It wasn’t so bad, though. The sinks and showers were all sparkling clean now.  
  
“You going to the same house as before? The McCall residence?” Bennett asked.  
  
“That’s the one, yup.” Isaac put his backpack back over his shoulder, assuming he wouldn’t need to show off his homework after all.  
  
“Sure, you can go,” Bennett allowed.  
  
Isaac smiled a little. “Thank you,” he said before heading towards the staircase, more than ready to leave the basement.  
  
This was exactly why he asked Bennett instead of any of the other supervisors. He didn’t ask any questions like, ‘why do you want to go over there’ and ‘are you sure it’s a good idea to skip out on group activities at the house’ as if sitting around watching TV with other kids was some sort of enlightening experience.  
  
“Hey, Isaac,” Bennett called out.  
  
Isaac stopped on the second step and glanced behind him. “Uh… yeah?”  
  
Bennett crossed the basement floor to stand at the foot of the stairs. He was already shorter than Isaac when they were standing on the same level, so he had to tip his head back to look up at him from the height difference two steps afforded him. A concerned expression crossed his face. “Is everything okay?”  
  
Oh, God. This was what Isaac had been trying to avoid. “Yeah,” he said plainly.  
  
“Look, I know you’ve had it a little tough. First your father’s hearing, and then the incident at dinner. Now you’re spending time elsewhere, staying out late, not joining the rest of the residents for dinner. I can help if something’s wrong, Isaac. You don’t need to run and hide across town.”  
  
“Uh,” Isaac glanced over Bennett’s shoulder to see Meredith just standing there, watching them, not even pretending to do her laundry or something to cover up the fact that she was eavesdropping. He didn’t appreciate that at all. He wished Bennett could have waited until they were alone to bring this shit up, if he had to bring it up at all.  
  
“I just want to hang out with my friend. He’s got an Xbox.” It sounded so fucking stupid to say, but it wasn’t like he could admit to having a boyfriend or going on a date. Supervisors got weird about that kind of thing. When the other residents wanted to hang out with their boyfriends and girlfriends they said they were going to ‘study’ or ‘hang out with friends’. Isaac could play that game too.  
  
Bennett looked at him skeptically but nodded. “Sure.” Yeah, he wasn’t buying this at all. “Just be home by ten.”  
  
Isaac nodded and hurried back upstairs. He was always in by ten. He always got his chores done, he always did his homework, he always helped around the house. He went to work where they wanted him to. He went to counseling like they wanted him to. Part of his consummate obedience had been literally beaten into him by his father, but mostly he just did what he was told because it was easier. If he played by the rules no one bothered him. Sometimes Isaac was so frustrated with it all that he wanted to scream, but he didn’t, because that wouldn’t help anything.  
  
The thought of seeing Scott warmed him. It was their first date tonight and he couldn’t be more excited. Not even Bennett’s ambush could discourage him.  
  
Isaac hurried back up to his room to drop his bag off before cutting through the living room, past Lori who was still working on her homework and Brett who was still on his phone. He walked out into the cold night air and down the street towards the bus stop. He would have to transfer from the 17 to the 25 and walk six blocks to get to Scott’s house but it was worth it.  
  
Isaac smiled the whole way there.

 

* * *

 

When Scott asked to take Isaac on a date, he’d said the words ‘take you out’ but they didn’t actually go out anywhere. They hung out at Scott’s place, ordered pizza, and clicked through channels on the TV without ever actually finding anything to watch. Melissa, Scott’s mom, was working the late shift so they had the house to themselves, but they were mostly just content to sit close to one another, nudging shoulders and elbows, and talking mindlessly over the TV.  
  
It was exactly like hanging out, but it wasn’t hanging out because they were boyfriends now. Isaac liked it. This was easy and comfortable. If Scott had swept him away to a fancy dinner somewhere it would have been weird.  
  
When the sun went down, Scott gathered up a bunch of blankets and a citronella lamp and they went to sit out in the back yard. Scott’s house, like every house on the block, butted up against the edges of the preserve. His backyard ended in dense foliage that went on and on. Neither the dirt road nor any of the trails that traversed the preserve could be found anywhere near here.  
  
After a few minutes in the cool night air, Scott had to duck back inside and get his inhaler, but afterwards they cuddled in close under the blankets, sharing their warmth. Isaac liked being out here. He liked being in wide, open spaces. They listened to the last of the late fall insects make their noises and he stared up at the blue, star-speckled sky.  
  
“Want to hang out with me and Stiles on Halloween?” Scott asked, conversationally. The holiday was fast approaching.  
  
Isaac raised up his eyebrows, giving him a look. “Aren’t you too old to go trick or treating?”  
  
Scott laughed and shook his head. “No, we’re just gonna eat candy and watch scary movies.”  
  
“Oh,” Isaac grimaced. “I don’t really like horror movies.” His real life was horrible enough. He didn’t want to see people being hit or hurt. He didn’t like the rising tension. He especially didn’t like when stuff popped out at him.  
  
“We could just watch fun Halloween movies instead,” Scott offered. “Casper and The Halloween Tree and stuff.”  
  
Isaac could already hear Stiles complaining about the change in film choice. He smirked. Maybe he would join. “Yeah, okay. We should invite Erica and Boyd too.”  
  
“Yeah, Boyd’s fun.” Scott nodded his agreement.  
  
“Boyd’s fun?” Isaac repeated, laughing a little. “I haven’t heard him say two words since he started sitting with us.”  
  
“He talks sometimes,” Scott defended him, always going up to bat for people. “He’s pretty cool, and nice.”  
  
“I’ll take your word for it,” Isaac decided. He did like Boyd, even if he was the quiet type. He seemed to be the perfect counter balance to Erica’s brazen confidence. It would be fun to see them outside of school.  
  
“I think that one’s the North Star,” Scott said, changing the subject. He pointed to a particularly bright light in the sky. His neighborhood was far enough from downtown that the light pollution out here was minimal. They could see plenty of stars.  
  
Isaac nodded and pointed out the Big Dipper, and then the Little Dipper. Orion and his belt. Scott wasn’t looking up at the sky, though. He was looking at Isaac, and he was smiling softly.  
  
“Where’d you learn those?” he asked.  
  
“Cam taught me. He learned in the Boy Scouts, I think.”  
  
“But you weren’t a Boy Scout?”  
  
Isaac shrugged, drawing the blanket in from where it had slipped down his shoulder. “My mom was the one who took Cam to Boy Scout meetings and stuff. My dad could care less. If it wasn’t the swim team, it didn’t matter. She was gone by the time I was old enough, so...” he trailed off, looking for the Northern Cross in the sky.  
  
“Sorry,” Scott said softly. “We don’t have to talk about this stuff.”  
  
“It’s okay.” Isaac glanced at him and smiled a little, to show that it really was okay. “I know I have like, counselors and supervisors and people who will listen, but I like talking to you better.”  
  
For some reason that made Scott blush soft pink, and he looked down to smile privately at his lap.  
  
“You know you can tell me stuff too, right?” Isaac offered. He wanted Scott to feel the same way; to feel as safe telling Isaac all his problems as Isaac felt telling Scott things.  
  
“Yeah, but I’m not dealing with the kinds of things you are,” Scott said.  
  
His biggest worries were getting into AP Bio, and whether he would ever make it off the bench and into a lacrosse game this season. He didn’t have death and violence weighing him down, but he did have his own problems.  
  
“That doesn’t matter,” Isaac insisted. “If you ever want to talk about studying or your dad or college applications or anything else, I’ll listen.”  
  
Scott’s hand found Isaac’s under the blanket, and he squeezed it gently. “Thanks,” he said, as genuine as ever. Scott looked at him for a moment before venturing another question. “How are things with your dad? Are you still gonna, uh, forgive him?”  
  
Isaac took a deep breath and held it for a second before blowing it out in a sigh. “I haven’t been thinking about it. I was all distracted with ignoring and avoiding you - which was really hard, by the way, because I wanted to talk to you so badly.” Scott grinned at this. “And then you were acting all weird and jealous, so you’ve kind of been the only thing in my mind.”  
  
“Is it weird that I’m, like, _happy_ you’re been thinking about me so much?” Scott asked, laughing a little as he spoke. “I mean, obviously I wish the circumstances were different, but like... you’ve been thinking about me.”  
  
Isaac couldn’t help but smile too, because Scott’s happiness was contagious. He leaned in to kiss Scott on the lips.  
  
They kept kissing, soft and sweet, until it was time for Isaac to catch his busses back to the group home. Scott walked with him the six blocks to the bus stop. There was no shelter there, just a transit plaque nailed to a light post. They huddled in close to one another. Isaac wished he could stay the night; sleep in Scott’s bed with his comfy plaid blankets and the scent of him all over the sheets. He was already counting the days until his next overnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://brett-talbot-imagines.tumblr.com/))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx%22)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no new tags
> 
> thanks as always to my remarkable beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf)! he has been kind enough to read, review, and refine all of my fanfiction over the years. i have so much respect for him and everything he does.

“At the hearing, my father asked for my forgiveness.” Isaac told Marin. It was the first thing he said as he sat down in her office, not even bothering with a hello or any other pleasantries.  
  
Marin was in the middle of clearing her desk, lesson plan open in front of her. She looked across at Isaac with big eyes. She didn’t seem particularly surprised at his sudden willingness to talk. Then again, her face was always unreadable. Calmly, she closed her planner and slid it aside, giving Isaac her full attention.  
  
“He said he was sorry for all the stuff he did to me, and that he wants my forgiveness. I don’t think I believe him, but I want to.” Isaac’s voice got a little shaky and he cleared his throat to steady it.  
  
He really, really hated talking about this. He couldn’t stop thinking about it since Scott had brought it up, though. Things in his life were going okay. Good, even, when it came to stuff like having a boyfriend. He had nothing else to worry about right now except for this.  
  
He’d already talked about it with Scott. In a roundabout kind of way, he even knew what Stiles had to say on the matter. This was what Marin was here for, he might as well get her opinion too. He could either spend the rest of their session thinking up dumb reasons to hate her, dancing around topics, avoiding certain subjects, or he could just get it over with and talk to her.  
  
“Why don’t you believe him?” Marin asked.  
  
Isaac shrugged. “He probably just said it for the judge, to get a lighter sentence. They take that kind of stuff into account; whether the guilty person has admitted their guilt and acknowledged that they’ve done something wrong.”  
  
“You think that’s the case with your father?” She reiterated, pressing him to continue this line of thought.  
  
“Probably.” It was a bleak outlook to have, that his dad wasn’t really sorry at all for the torture and violence and pain he had caused. Bleak, but most likely true. It was naive to think he’d grown a conscience in the few months between his trial and his sentencing hearing.  
  
“How do you know?” Marin asked him.  
  
“I don’t.” Isaac shot back. If he knew for sure, he wouldn’t be struggling with this.  
  
“What makes you think he’s sincere in his apology?” She continued, urging him to explore both sides of this conflict.   
  
“I don’t think he’s being sincere... I just... I _want_ him to be. I want him to mean it.”  
  
As if it wasn’t completely obvious why anyone would want a genuine apology from someone who had wronged them, Marin asked him, “Why?”  
  
Isaac thought of every time his dad had unlocked the chains and lifted the refrigerator lid. That had to mean something. It just had to. His father didn’t have to free him. He could have left Isaac to rot in there. He always came back, though. Sometimes it took hours, but he always came back. He always took Isaac into his arms and held him tight and told him it had to be done, but the punishment was over now, and they were okay.  
  
It was really his own fault for getting in trouble anyway. For making mistakes. For making his dad angry. For being dumb. For being wrong. For being alive when Cam was dead. If he wasn’t such an idiot, his father never would have had to punish him.  
  
Part of him knew that that was bullshit, because parents who want to help their children don’t fucking lock them in airtight pseudo-coffins. Another part, the part wholly convinced that his only talent in life was being a complete fuck up, wasn’t so sure.  
  
Marin’s office felt too fucking small. Isaac drew his arms in close to his body, away from the walls that were closing in on him. God, he didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t want to talk about this. He wanted to talk about the stupid hearing and forgiveness, not the fucking fridge.  
  
This was why he didn’t bring this shit up. This was why he avoided talking to Marin about anything. This, this, this horrible fucking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The way the room was getting smaller and smaller. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have said anything.  
  
His panic must have been evident because Marin had come around her desk. She was speaking in a low voice, telling him something calming. Isaac wasn’t listening to her. He didn’t want her to come any closer. “I have to go,” he said suddenly, snatching his bookbag by the strap and darting for the door.  
  
“Isaac, wait-“  
  
Isaac didn’t wait. He tore through the empty French classroom and into the hallway. The bright afternoon light pouring through the hallway’s windows made him feel a little better, but he didn’t catch his breath until he was out the double doors at the end of the hall. He gasped at the fresh air, thankful for the stretch of bright blue sky above his head and the wide, empty practice fields the doors had opened to. The open space soothed him.  
  
“Jesus, Isaac,” Stiles’ voice cut through his slowly settling panic. “There’s enough oxygen to go around. No one’s going to steal it from you.”  
  
Isaac turned to give him a murderous glare. He’d never felt the urge to punch someone’s lights out as strongly as he did now. For all that Stiles knew about him, about his past and his rap sheet, he still didn’t know shit about the abuse Isaac had endured or he would have known not to say that.  
  
Stiles was dressed head-to-toe in lacrosse gear, pads covering his elbows and shoulders and knees. It wouldn’t be worth it to try and beat the shit out of him if he didn’t even feel it. That was the only thing that stayed Isaac’s hands.  
  
“Isaac.” Marin came through the double doors in a hurry, or as much of a hurry as her heels and pencil skirt allowed. She must have followed him to make sure he was okay, and she seemed surprised to find another student out there with him. She stopped short. “Are you alright?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Isaac grit out, clearly not fine at all.  
  
Stiles watched this exchange and raised up his eyebrows, easily picking up on how obviously not-fine Isaac was.  
  
“Come back inside,” Marin urged him.  
  
“No.” Isaac jerked back, stepping away from her. He wasn’t going back into that tiny fucking office.  
  
“Ms. Morrell?” Stiles stepped in. “I can take it from here. I’m headed down to the lacrosse field. I’ll take Isaac with me. I think the walk will help clear his head. Right, buddy?” Stiles stepped close to him and nudged him in the ribs.  
  
Isaac stared hard at Stiles, trying to make sense of this. “…Yeah.” He agreed after a moment, turning back to Marin. “Please, just… some fresh air.” It wasn’t a lie. He did want fresh air, almost desperately.  
  
Marin hesitated, glancing between the two of them. “Alright,” she allowed, though it didn’t look like she was happy with this turn of events. “But you need to come see me tomorrow, Isaac.”  
  
“Sure,” Isaac agreed. Whatever. Anything to get her off his back for now.  
  
Stiles put his arm around Isaac’s shoulders, and Isaac narrowly resisted the instinct to shove him off. They turned towards the practice fields and started walking. After a few paces, Isaac glanced back to see that the double doors were swinging closed and Marin was gone from sight. He pushed Stiles away from him, roughly. “Don’t touch me.”  
  
“Alright,” Stiles snapped. “Jeez. No need to say thank you or anything.” He watched as Isaac closed his eyes and took in one deep breath after another. The seriousness of the situation sobered him up a little. “Panic attack?” He guessed.  
  
Isaac shot him a mean look, not quite sure why he hadn’t fucked off yet. He was grateful for the save from Marin, but still sore about that oxygen comment from earlier.    
  
“I used to get them after my mom died,” Stiles shrugged.  
  
Oh. Isaac didn’t know that Stiles’ mom was dead. He softened. “Anxiety attack,” he corrected. There was only a slight difference, but it was a difference. He was okay now that the confines of the office were gone, and the conversation had changed.  
  
“Huh, well, those suck too,” Stiles shrugged, and then changed subjects like it was nothing. “Come on, come down to the field with me. You can watch practice from the bleachers.”  
  
“Uh…” Isaac wasn’t sure he was up for that just now.  
  
“Scott’ll be there,” Stiles pointed out. That was reason enough to follow, but he wasn’t done. “And coach is putting me in goal today for some reason, so I’m sure you’ll see me get hit in the face with a few lacrosse balls. That ought to cheer you up.”  
  
Yes. It would.

 

* * *

 

Isaac had to work up the courage to broach the subject again. It was still weighing on his mind. He spent night after night lying in bed, staring at the Nirvana baby as if it had the answers. Good memories of his father floated in and out of his brain. Pool parties in the backyard, the smell of chlorine everywhere. The wedding photo of his mother and father dressed their best, smiling serenely at the camera. The concerned look on his dad’s face, heartfelt and earnest as he freed Isaac from his refrigerator cell. The way he would wrap his arms around his son’s shoulders and hold him while Isaac shook and sobbed. He hated that those were good memories, but... they were. In a weird, twisted way, they were.  
  
It took him almost a week before he felt brave enough to approach Bennett. Isaac was in the middle of cooking; it was his turn to make dinner for the house. He was working from a recipe he found in the cook book above the stove, something called One Pot Chicken which seemed pretty easy. He just had to cut up chicken and vegetables and add them into a pot with some rice. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t fuck it up, and everyone would be glad for the change of pace from the mac and cheese wave that was sweeping the dinner menu in place of spaghetti.  
  
“Hey, uh, you remember a while ago when you said you would help if something was wrong?” Isaac asked, focusing on cutting carrots.  
  
Bennett was relaxing at the dining table, a spot he frequented. He had been on his phone, but he set it aside readily and stood up, crossing the kitchen to lean against the counter near Isaac. “Is there something wrong?” he asked casually.  
  
“I don’t know,” Isaac shrugged. “No. I just... I’ve been thinking about my dad. He wants me to forgive him, I guess.”  
  
Bennett was quiet for a long moment; the sound of vegetables being chopped filled the kitchen. He didn’t know as much about the abuse as other people did. Obviously, he knew that something had happened, or Isaac wouldn’t be in a group home. It was probable that he’d been told some of the details, but the supervisors here at New Beginnings had likely been more informed about Isaac’s criminal offenses than his family life.  
  
“It’s up to you whether you want to forgive someone or not,” Bennett said, shrugging. “It might not be easy, but it might make you feel better in the end.”  
  
That was pretty generic advice, but it wasn’t wrong. Isaac nodded. “I guess I just don’t know if he’s genuinely sorry or, if he thinks he is.” His voice dropped low and quiet, loathe to speak these next words aloud. “It’s like when he used to hit me, or throw things at me, or lock me up. Did he genuinely think that was an acceptable punishment, that it would help teach me some lesson? Or did he just want to hurt me?”  
  
Isaac chanced a glance at Bennett and he absolutely hated the pitying look he found. He wasn’t going to say anything else. He didn’t want to run his mouth and let his mind wander the way it had in Marin’s office. He didn’t want to upset himself. He had said enough.  
  
“Yeah, that’s...” Bennett trailed off for a second, considering. “Have you talked to him?”  
  
Isaac’s knife work faltered. He nearly laughed out loud. “Uh. What?”  
  
“Have you talked to him,” Bennett said again. “To try and see how he really feels.”  
  
When exactly was he supposed to get around to having this little chat with his dad? When he was in juvie? During the trial? At the hearing? When? While he was willing to offer forgiveness, Isaac was still definitely terrified of the man. He didn’t exactly want to be in the same room with him.  
  
Except...  
  
Except now, he wouldn’t be in the same room with his dad. His father would be behind the Plexiglas divider of a prison visitation room. Or maybe they would be in the same room, at the same table, but his father would be cuffed. A guard would be nearby. Isaac could leave if he got too upset or scared and his dad wouldn’t be able to drag him back, or hurt him, or hit him, or force him down the basement steps and into the fridge.  
  
He bit his lip. “Is that a good idea, though? Talking to him? Won’t that just... mess me up, or something?”  
  
Bennett crossed his arms and thought hard about his reply. “Look, if you’re asking me whether or not I think you should visit your dad in prison, the answer is no. It probably isn’t the best idea. If you’re asking how to understand your dad and his state of mind better... talking to him is probably the best option. If you want to try, there are people like me who would support you. It could hurt things, sure, but it could also help.”  
  
That was a complicated answer, and it left Isaac with more questions than ever, but it was better than generic advice. The idea of actually doing it, of actually going to Beacon County Correctional and visiting his father behind bars put an icy cold rock of pure terror in Isaac’s guts. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. He would definitely need to think it over.  
  
“Okay.” He nodded. “That’s... yeah, that’s something to think about.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Scott whispered. “You still awake?” He sounded like he was just waking up himself, rising from the soft sleep he’d been enjoying only moments ago.  
  
Isaac momentarily debated not saying anything. It was late. He should probably just let Scott rest. “Yeah,” he said back, voice quiet and low.  
  
He had used one of his overnights to sleep over at Scott’s house, the only thing he ever used them for. Here in Scott’s room, there was no Nirvana poster to stare at. Instead, Isaac stared at the comfy green armchair in the corner, and the door to the adjacent bathroom that was slightly ajar. It was hard to make out the details in the dull light, but the longer he stared the more he could see.  
  
Scott curled against him, spooning him from behind. He threw an arm over Isaac’s waist, resting it there comfortably. Isaac was taller, but he still somehow ended up being the little spoon and he kind of liked it. Melissa didn’t quite know they were dating yet or she probably wouldn’t let Isaac sleep in Scott’s room, in Scott’s bed with him. Or, maybe she would. She seemed like a reasonable parent who trusted her kid.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Scott asked, nuzzling his nose into the back of Isaac’s neck. It tickled and felt good.  
  
“Nothing’s wrong,” Isaac whispered, blinking at the arm chair. There was something sitting on the cushion, a balled-up hoodie maybe or a blanket. He’d been trying to figure it out for the last hour and still wasn’t sure what it could be.  
  
Scott made a quiet, contemplative noise. “But you can’t sleep.”  
  
Isaac hesitated a second before turning over on the mattress. He unsettled the comforter and had to fix it, stretching it out over his and Scott’s body equally. They were face to face now, literally inches from each other. Isaac laid his head on Scott’s pillow and pressed their foreheads together. Scott tangled up their legs in a way that was oddly comfortable.  
  
“I can’t stop thinking about my dad,” he admitted.  
  
Scott’s eyes were closed. He made a sleepy sound, sort of like, _hmm_.  
  
“Do you think it would be dumb if I went to visit him?” Isaac asked softly.  
  
Scott found his arm under the blankets and gently stroked at Isaac’s skin. His fingers grazed the scar on his arm he’d gotten from working at the graveyard, the same one Scott had touched that day in the animal clinic before they kissed. “I don’t think anything you do is dumb,” he murmured.  
  
Isaac couldn’t help but to smile, just a little and just for a moment. “Even if I forgave him? You wouldn’t think I was dumb?”  
  
Scott opened his sleepy eyes. He leaned in to kiss Isaac’s mouth. “Even then,” he promised.  
  
They cuddled closer to one another, finding comfortable positions while pressing right up against each other. Scott’s cheek came to rest against Isaac’s collarbone and Isaac’s chin was right on top of Scott’s head, nestled in his soft hair. It smelled good; not like shampoo or anything, just like him. It was easier to fall asleep this way, with the armchair and the undefined item sitting in it behind him. Isaac nodded off as Scott’s breath ghosted over his t-shirt in a steady, soothing rhythm.  
  
In the morning, Isaac woke alone. Scott was used to getting up early for morning lacrosse practice and genuinely thought six a.m. was a reasonable hour to be up and doing stuff. Isaac vehemently disagreed. He’d had his fill of waking up early in juvie, as all the youth offenders had to be out of their beds by seven to eat breakfast in the mess hall. His dad had never been too keen on letting him sleep in, either. They didn’t encourage it at the group home, but as long as he was up for school and before nine on the weekends they didn’t bother him too much. Sleeping in at Scott’s place was a unique luxury he never passed up.  
  
When he finally crawled out of bed at a quarter-past nine, he chanced a glance at the green arm chair. It was a hoodie sitting there on the cushion, one of Scott’s. He reached out to pick it up. It hadn’t been washed recently. It didn’t smell bad or anything, but it didn’t smell like fabric softener or laundry detergent. Isaac shrugged it on over his shoulders, it was a little small but still comfortable. It wasn’t cold in the house, he just wanted to wear it. He then padded barefoot down the stairs to the first floor.  
  
“Hey, you’re up,” Scott said happily from where he was sitting on the couch watching TV. He noticed the hoodie and his face split into a grin. “My mom’s already at work. Want some breakfast?”  
  
Isaac nodded, though he would probably just go for cereal. Scott was about as good at cooking as Isaac was, which wasn’t saying much. He had valiantly attempted to make breakfast the last time Isaac had stayed over, and it was a nice gesture, but it hadn’t turned out very well. His sunny side up eggs turned into a weird scramble that fell apart. It was only slightly improved with hot sauce.  
  
Scott followed him into the kitchen just to be with him, but Isaac had been over enough times by now to know where to find the bowls and spoons. When he had a bowl full of Cheerios ready, he followed Scott back out to the couch. They sat together and watched people bid on storage lockers in some odd reality TV show Isaac didn’t quite understand.  
  
As they watched some guy named Kenny sort through piles of junk, assigning prices to things like a dusty caddy of golf clubs and vintage Christmas decorations, Scott spoke up. “Hey, um, I could go with you if you wanted.”  
  
“Go with me?” Isaac gave him a look. He wasn’t going anywhere, not until he had to leave tonight to go back to the group home.  
  
“Yeah, to visit your dad?” Scott said hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure if he should be bringing this up.  
  
Isaac frowned, and set the bowl of leftover milk on the coffee table in front of him. “No, you don’t have to do that.” That didn’t feel fair. He already asked so much of Scott, it was pretty unreasonable to expect him to go to prison of all places. No one should have to deal with Isaac’s dad, ever. Scott included.  
  
“Yeah, but I want to.” Scott told him, innocently. “If you want me to. If you’re worried about seeing him again, I could be there for you.”  
  
Isaac wondered, not for the first time, how he had ever managed to find someone as pure and good as Scott McCall. How could one person be so kind, so understanding, so perfect? He reached out for Scott’s hand and threaded their fingers together, squeezing softly.  
  
“Thank you,” Isaac told him before leaning in to kiss Scott on the cheek. “But I still don’t know if I’m going to go.” He was still pretty terrified of the idea, but with Scott there it wouldn’t be so scary. He might not be able to go in with Isaac, but it would be nice to know he was waiting just outside or nearby in a car.  
  
“I meant what I said last night. I don’t think it’s a dumb idea. If you want to talk to him, your dad owes you a conversation. I mean, he owes you a lot of things, but that’s like… the very least he can do.”  
  
Isaac stared at Scott for a second before smirking softly. “Did Stiles tell you to say that?” he asked. Not that Scott couldn’t come up with something like that on his own, but this piece of life advice had a certain Stilinski flair to it.  
  
Scott blushed suddenly and jerked his attention back to the TV. “No,” he said, too fast to be honest. “I mean… we were talking about other stuff! Hypothetical stuff, happening to other people who aren’t you.”  
  
Isaac couldn’t help it, he had to laugh. Scott was trying. It was the thought that counted. Besides, Stiles wasn’t so bad; it was fine if he knew a little bit about Isaac and the stuff he’d gone through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](https://gifer.com/en/gifs/begging-on-your-knees))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags have been updated to include minor character death and suicide. 
> 
> thanks of course to my tremendous beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf)! even if my writing was perfect, i will still send all my work to him because his opinion matters and his improvements mean everything to me.

“I don’t know, so, I guess there’s some type of visitor information form,” Isaac explained, hauling a bag of garbage up over his shoulder and into the dumpster. Scott let the dumpster lid fall closed as soon as the trash was inside, and for some reason it made Isaac flinch. Hard. “Like, my dad has to get the form and send it to me and I fill it out and send it back and then the prison staff approves it and my dad approves of me being on his visitation list and it takes weeks.”  
  
Isaac dusted his hands on his jeans and followed Scott back inside to the bright light and relative warmth of the animal clinic. It smelled much nicer in here than out in the alley, though apparently the back alley was much worse in the summer time.  
  
“Sounds complicated,” Scott said sympathetically.  
  
“Yeah,” Isaac agreed.  
  
He tried to remember how it was for him in juvie, but he didn’t exactly have visitors. The only people who came to see him were officials from the prosecuting attorney’s office to help him go over his testimony against his father and his case worker to bring him school work. They were all automatically granted access. In fact, he had to see them when they came whether he wanted to or not. It’s not like any friends or family stopped by, so he didn’t know the protocol for that kind of thing. Even if he did, he was pretty sure juvenile detention was different than prison.  
  
“Boys,” Doctor Deaton greeted them in the back hallway. He had a copy paper box in hand, but it didn’t look like it held any paper. It looked like it had been repurposed for storage. “I have an important task for you today.”  
  
Isaac and Scott shared a look of intrigue.  
  
“I need you two to decorate the front lobby,” Deaton told them, the corners of his mouth lifting with amusement. He pulled off the box lid to reveal Halloween decorations.  
  
Scott made an excited noise, like he was expecting something much worse. “Oh, awesome!” He hefted the box into his own arms and shifted aside a bag of cotton webbing to lift up a sheet of window clings; smiling pumpkins and black cats. Isaac was glad it wasn’t those fake blood splatters people put in their windows. He didn’t like those.  
  
Isaac and Scott went up front and got to work. They requisitioned the tape dispenser from the reception desk and began taping cut-outs of bats to the wall by the bulletin board. It was a fun change of pace from the usual cleaning and organizing they did.  
  
“Hey, maybe you could just call him?” Scott said from where he was standing on one of the cushioned lobby chairs. He was stretching fake spider webs onto the exit sign hanging from the ceiling. Isaac was holding the chair steady and not-so-subtly looking at Scott’s ass in his jeans. They weren’t form-fitting enough to show anything, but it was still worth a look.  
  
“Huh?” Isaac asked, distracted.  
  
“Your dad, I meant. Like, you could call him and talk to him if visiting doesn’t work.” Scott stepped down from the chair and handed a tuft of webbing to Isaac. He nodded towards the reception desk and they both descended on it, ready to cover it in webs.  
  
Isaac had been so distracted with decorating, he’d forgotten what they were talking about before Deaton approached them. “No, I can’t actually,” he said, stretching the webs out. “I mean… prisoners don’t exactly have their own phone they can chat on all day. If I want to talk to him on the phone, he has to call me.”  
  
“Oh,” Scott nodded solemnly. “I didn’t think of that.”  
  
“I’m just going to send a letter. Bennett said that was the best idea. I’ll ask him to put me on his visitation list and if he doesn’t do it, he doesn’t do it.” Isaac shrugged, trying to make it seem like ‘no harm, no foul’ but he didn’t really feel that way. On one hand, he wanted his dad to refuse because then he wouldn’t have to face him. On the other, he was starting to think he deserved some answers or explanations.  
  
Either way, he wanted to be the one to decide whether he saw his father or not. He wanted to make the choice. He didn’t want his dad to force his hand one way or the other by not allowing him to visit. He had forced Isaac to do enough in his life, Isaac didn’t want him to have this to hold over him, too.  
  
“If I send it out tomorrow, it should get to him in two days,” Isaac said.  
  
He already had a letter written. He’d torn the paper out of his English notebook. The edges of it were all frayed from where he’d ripped the page from the spiral bindings. It was short and concise. It didn’t allude to anything, it was just a simple request for a visitor information form. It was currently burning a hole in his back pocket. He needed an envelope and a stamp to send it, but he wasn’t going to wait long to mail it. If he didn’t face this head-on now, he might not ever have the courage or the same support system he had now.  
  
“Cool,” Scott said, all casual like it was nothing. “We can walk by the post office after school tomorrow.”  
  
Isaac felt a weird swell in his chest of appreciation for this human being who was taking on so much for him. He abandoned decorating to cross the lobby floor and clutch Scott to his chest in a hug. Scott laughed, confused as to where the sudden urge to embrace had come from, but eagerly he hugged Isaac back.

 

* * *

 

“Do you have a forty-seven cents?” Isaac asked.  
  
He couldn’t take his eyes off the envelope. The blue ink of the address seemed to stand out so starkly on the bright white of the paper. Isaac had to go on the Federal Bureau of Prisons website to find his dad’s inmate number. It sat there next to his father’s full name, above the prison’s street address. Isaac smoothed the edges of the envelope down for what felt like the hundredth time, fingers running over the blue writing.  
  
“I have a dollar,” Scott said helpfully. He fished it out from his pocket and handed it over to the postal worker.  
  
Isaac actually had forty-seven cents of his own, but that was part of his bus fare to get back home today so he kind of needed it. He offered Scott a grateful smile, already planning to pay him back for all the money he spent on Isaac.  
  
“Thanks,” Isaac breathed, watching as the envelope disappeared behind the counter to be sorted and delivered. The prison was close. It might even get there by the end of the day. He’d hear back soon, and then the knot in his stomach that was twisting his guts up would stop clinching so damn tightly.  
  
Scott could clearly tell that this was stressing Isaac out. He rubbed his back in a comforting kind of way. “Want to go get some smoothies?”  
  
“What?” Isaac gave him a confused look. He hadn’t expected Scott to say that.  
  
“I dunno.” Scott shrugged. “My mom always takes me with her to go get them when she’s, uh, dealing with a lot at work and stuff. I think I’m programmed in my brain to want to give people smoothies whenever someone’s stressed out now. And, y’know, smoothies are, like… good. There’s no reason not to have one.”  
  
They had to move away from the counter because there was a long line of people with packages and letters of their own to send off. It wasn’t until they were halfway out the door that Isaac’s nervousness broke. He laughed a little. “Ok, sure.”  
  
He let Scott lead the way down the street to the smoothie shop. It had rained recently, and all the sidewalks were a darker shade than usual, puddles of water here and there on the ground. The crunchy autumn leaves that had fallen from the trees were all soggy now.  
  
Isaac had never been in a smoothie shop. He was pretty sure he’d never even had a smoothie before. He’d never wanted one, and it’s not like it was something he would have just whipped up at home. It was bright and colorful inside with pictures of fruit all over the walls, fuzzy kiwis and bright red strawberries and spiky-looking pineapple.  
  
He blinked dumbly at the multicolored menu. They had signs up advertising an orange-colored, pumpkin-themed smoothie, but that just seemed gross. The pictures on the walls ended up influencing Isaac more than anything else. At a loss for what to order, he picked the first thing he saw with kiwis in the name (Apple Kiwi Twist) because the kiwi decals looked especially enticing. Scott ordered something with berries in it that came out an intense shade of purple.  
  
The smoothies, of course, were unreasonably good; all sweet and delicious and better than anything he’d ever tasted in his entire life. He wondered why he’d never had one before. Scott let him try the berry one, and it was good too, though not as sweet as Isaac’s. He couldn’t help but think back to the day of the hearing, how bright and warm it had been. Here he was again, nervous and anxious but surrounded by sweetness and color. The world didn’t make sense. Sometimes, Isaac thought it never would.  
  
They left the shop and walked without direction for a little while, happy just to be together. Isaac wondered if this counted as a date. The rain had brought a weird influx of warm wind with it and the weather was actually okay instead of being chilly. They didn’t say much, but there wasn’t much to say. When their smoothies were gone, empty cups abandoned in a curbside garbage can, Scott pulled Isaac in for a kiss. His mouth tasted so sweet and delicious. Isaac didn’t want to ever stop kissing him.  
  
“Thank you,” Isaac said when they finally pulled back from one another.  
  
“For what?” Scott asked innocently, looking up into Isaac’s blue eyes.  
  
“For everything.” Isaac kissed him again, mixing the taste of kiwi and strawberries on their tongues.

 

* * *

 

Isaac was feeling especially apprehensive, and he knew it was obvious. He’d been tapping his pencil against his study guide so long and so loud in math class that the girl sitting next to him gave him a nasty look. Things didn’t improve in Chemistry where he’d bounced his leg incessantly under his desk, which was quieter but still distracting.  
  
It was mischief night tonight, the night before Halloween. Other kids in school were thrumming with excited energy thinking of pranks they were going to pull. Isaac wished that dumb high school pranks were on his mind, but he had much bigger worries.  
  
Scott must have noticed his anxiousness because he went to track Isaac down at the end of the school day. Stiles, like always, was trailing behind him.  
  
“Hey, do you want to come to practice with us?” Scott asked.   
  
“I don’t know,” Isaac mumbled, shoving his books in his locker.  
  
“It might be a good distraction.” Scott had that hopeful look on his face that was damn near impossible to say no to.  
  
It had been five days since he sent the letter. He was sure his dad had seen it by now. He had to have seen it.  Maybe he was thinking about it, considering a reply. Maybe he had already sent the visitor information papers and they were just slow getting through the mail. Maybe his dad was refusing him; another cruelty, as if years of being cruel hadn’t been enough.  
  
Yeah, he needed a distraction. He definitely needed a distraction. He wasn’t sure that watching the lacrosse team run suicides was going to be a good one, but it was better than nothing.  
  
“Okay,” he breathed, taking his English Lit homework with him. If nothing else, he could stare at the page until the words jumbled together and his brain stopped working for a while.  
  
The three of them turned to walk in the direction of the locker room. Isaac would leave them to get changed while he went ahead down to the bleachers. They didn’t quite get that far.   
  
Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles’ dad, was making his way down the hallway towards them. He probably only wanted to stop and talk to his son, but Isaac got nervous seeing him. The Sheriff seemed like an okay guy, but Isaac had been arrested twice in his life. He was probably always going to be a little shaky towards officers of the law.  
  
“Hey dad,” Stiles lit up a little. Isaac glanced sideways at him. It was just too fucking weird that he had a good relationship with his father. “Something wrong?” Stiles went on, trying to figure out why his dad would be at the school. “Uh-oh, did you forget your house key again?” he smirked and went to fish his own keys out of his pocket.  
  
“No, Stiles. I have my house key, thank you very much.” The Sheriff took a slow breath, eyeing Isaac before glancing back at his son. “Why don’t you and Scott head on along to lacrosse practice.”    
  
Isaac’s hand shot out instantly to grab Scott’s arm, refusing to let him leave. He had a bad feeling about this. A really, really bad feeling. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. His mind spun with worst-case scenarios. Drugs had gone missing from the animal clinic and he was going to catch the blame for it. Marin had told someone about his stupid fucking anxiety attack in her office and they were going to cart him off to Eichen House.  
  
The sheriff saw the way Isaac was clutching at Scott and he sighed deeply. “Alright, you don’t have to go far, but just… give me a minute alone with Isaac.”  
  
“Okay,” Scott agreed. He gently eased his arm from Isaac’s grasp. “I’m just gonna be down the hall, okay. We’ll wait for you. We won’t leave for practice without you.”  
  
Isaac swallowed thickly and nodded. When it was just him alone with the sheriff, Isaac tried to resist making himself small, but he couldn’t stop it. He drew his shoulders in and stared at the badge pinned to Sheriff Stilinski’s uniform, afraid to look him in the eye.  
  
“Isaac…” the sheriff began. He seemed reluctant to speak. “Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this, but… your father died this afternoon.”  
  
Isaac went dead still, and it was like everything stopped. He swore he felt the world stop spinning.   
  
Blood rushed to his ears, a dull roar. He jerked his head up to look the sheriff in the face, to see the seriousness of his expression and know that it was true. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t understand. He stood there, stock still and struck dumb.  
  
“Isaac?” The sheriff reached out for him, resting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
Isaac flinched and shrugged him off. The touch had broken him from the spell of silence that had fallen over him, and he stuttered and stumbled to find words. “What… what….” Hot tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn’t make his voice work. The words weren’t coming out right. He struggled to ask the question, the horrible one he didn’t want to know and needed to know at the exact same time. “What… what happened?”  
  
After a brief pause, and even more reluctance, the sheriff told him. “Prison officials are saying it was a suicide.”  
  
Isaac brought his hands to his head, pushing back his curls. He blinked, and tears went rolling down his face. “Why would he do that?” he whispered, confused. “Why… what…”  
  
The sheriff’s attention shifted over to where Scott and Stiles were standing. He held up a hand to stave them off, but Scott approached anyway.   
  
“Isaac,” he said softly, carefully. “Hey, it’s okay.”  
  
Either he really was far enough down the hall that he hadn’t heard what Sheriff Stilinski had said, or he was out of his fucking mind if he thought this was okay. Isaac turned to look at Scott, to stare at him. He knew his face was a perfect mixture of hurt and confusion and he didn’t try to hide it. It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay.  
  
Why would his father do this? Why?  
  
Isaac wished he could believe it was out of guilt. His wished he could believe that his father had indeed grown a conscience since the trial and now he was so wracked with pain over what he’d done to his own child, he couldn’t stand another day living with himself. He wished he could believe that... but he didn’t.  
  
Isaac had the sneaking suspicion that he’d done it in one final act of cruelty. Isaac wanted visitation access, he wanted answers, he wanted the truth from his father. What did he get instead? A door closed in his face. One he could never open. The fridge lid was slamming shut on him again, and this time it was permanent. His dad wasn’t coming back. Not ever. This was Isaac’s final punishment; his dad wanted him to suffer.  
  
Isaac wanted to go outside, where it was open and safe. He wiped the tears from his chin, turned, and pushed past Scott without a word. He started walking towards the double doors at the end of the hall. He could hear Scott, or Stiles, or maybe the sheriff calling out to him, but he ignored it. He didn’t want to talk to them. He didn’t want to be in here with the close walls and low ceiling.  
  
Dropping his bag like the dead weight it was, Isaac broke into a run. He ran straight out the side entrance and into the parking lot. Even then he didn’t feel safe. The remaining cars in the lot felt like a cluttered crowd drawing in on him. The school and all its confines were just a few steps behind. Isaac’s run turned into a manic sprint. He was frantically trying to get away from this rotten feeling souring his body. Tears blurred his vision. He ran out into the street, attempting to get as far away from everything and everyone as humanly possible.  
  
A car horn and screeching tires cut through his panic and it was the last thing he heard before a sickening full body pain sent him spiraling into blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://onlysharman.tumblr.com/post/119377801327/i-believe-that-two-people-are-connected-at-the))  
> 
> 
> thanks for reading.
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no new tags
> 
> thank you as always to my exceptional beta, [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf)! it is both and honor and a privilege to work with someone as incredible as he is. thank you for everything you do, subway.

Isaac woke slowly, becoming aware of things one at a time. His mouth was dry. The air he was breathing was laced with something like antiseptic. He was tucked neatly in bed, warm from the blanket draped over his body. He blinked his eyes open, catching enough of a hospital room to confirm his suspicions about where he was. He groaned a little.  
  
He remembered running from the high school and sprinting into the street. It got a little vague after that, but he was sure he remembered ending up on the hood of a car somehow. The driver was some girl who had been leaving school and she absolutely would not stop crying. Isaac remembered her crying; standing with the driver’s side door open, shaking as she called for an ambulance, and crying hysterically.  
  
He remembered a crowd of people gathering, it was mostly students, but the sheriff was there too. He remembered the ambulance. Sort of. The EMTs kept asking him questions to keep him awake but he couldn’t remember anything he said. Scott’s mom, Melissa, was there when they unloaded him at the hospital. She told him he was going to be okay. They took him into a trauma room, gave him pain killers, and that was the last he remembered of anything.  
  
He tried to assess himself for injuries, but his mind was swimming. He recognized the effect of pain killers from the last time he’d been involved in a car crash. The stuff they’d given him then hadn’t been as strong as this, not by a long shot.  
  
He could barely feel his hands moving, so he certainly couldn’t feel any pain. He tried to sit up but couldn’t. Isaac laid still for a long time, breathing quietly and slowly. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it was weirdly hard to breathe.  
  
He remembered that his dad was dead, and his bottom lip trembled as tears threatened to start flowing. He swallowed hard and forced the emotions back down. He couldn’t think about that right now. He just couldn’t.  
  
He was probably awake for ten minutes or so before a nurse stopped in to see him, it was Melissa of course. She had a really soft look about her, all comforting and kind. Her presence soothed him immediately. She took up his hand and held it in her own.  
  
“Hey, you’re awake,” she said gently. “Can you tell me your name?”  
  
“Isaac,” he told her, and he meant to say it in a normal voice, but it came out a whisper. “Isaac Lahey.”  
  
“That’s good.” Mrs. McCall smiled and went about checking his vitals. “Do you know where you are?”  
  
“Hospital,” Isaac told her.  
  
“Right.” She nodded, seemingly relieved. She turned her attention back to his face. “Isaac, do you remember what happened?”  
  
Isaac swallowed. “Car... a car hit me.”  
  
“You were involved in a motor vehicle accident,” Melissa confirmed. That’s what they called them in hospital; MVAs. Isaac remembered from the last time he’d been brought in. “You had us scared for a little while there, but you’re gonna be just fine. You have a concussion and a few broken bones, but nothing that won’t heal.”  
  
“Broken bones?” Isaac repeated, eyes going a little wide.  
  
“A couple of ribs,” she told him, and that explained why breathing felt so weird. “You hit your head pretty hard. We already did a CT but Neuro’s going to come down for a consult and do some cognitive tests as soon as you’re feeling up for it. You’ll need a psych consult too.”  
  
Isaac frowned deeply. Psych had been called the last time he was in a car crash. They said it was to rule out him being suicidal, but they mostly just asked questions about his home and his dad when Isaac admitted he was trying to run away, not kill himself. That had been terrifying and miserable, but in the end, it was the catalyst for his father’s arrest, so he supposed it worked out in its own way.  
  
“I wasn’t trying to hurt myself,” Isaac told her. In fact, he’d been trying to find safety when he bolted. He wasn’t sure that anyone would believe him. This many accidents in so many years looked bad.  
  
“I believe you, honey,” Melissa told him. He recognized the genuine and earnest tone in her voice because it was the same one that Scott had. “Just tell them the truth and it’ll be okay.”  
  
Isaac nodded. He could do that. Really, what else could he do?  
  
She glanced around the room, clearly contemplating something. “Usually only family is allowed in at this time but... well,” she stepped away from the bed and went to open the door.  
  
Scott was standing out in the hallway, and his head jerked up at the movement. Even from afar, Isaac could see his eyes were rimmed red and he’d been crying. He hurried into the room, making straight for the bed. Isaac braced himself for a massive, smothering hug but Melissa caught her son by the arm and held him back.  
  
“Careful,” she warned. “No hugging. He’s got some healing to do first.”  
  
Scott nodded and broke free of her grasp in order to take Isaac’s face in his hands and kiss him instead; a desperate press of lips together. Isaac whimpered a little, wanting more, and he reached out to pull Scott closer.  
  
“Oh,” Mrs. McCall whispered. “...oh.”  
  
“Don’t ever do that again!” Scott said as he pulled back, fresh tears filling up his eyes.  
  
“I won’t,” Isaac promised. “I’m sorry, I won’t. I didn’t mean-“  
  
Scott cut him off with another kiss.  
  
Melissa had to break them apart. “Scott, c’mon,” she urged her son. “You can’t be in here yet. I’ll let you back in as soon as I can.”  
  
Isaac was too drugged up to feel much of anything, physically or emotionally, but a soft twinge of guilt cut through his medicated fog. His heart ached to see Scott turn from the bed and walk out of the room. He looked over his shoulder at Isaac with the expression of a hurt puppy. Isaac tried to smile, to show him it was going to be okay, but he wasn’t sure he managed it quite right.

 

* * *

 

After a bunch of questions where he had to do things like repeat a sequence of numbers backwards or come up with ten things that started with the letter B, Neurology cleared him. The psych consult was a little longer. Isaac was careful to avoid telling them about his anxiety attacks, and how rooms got smaller on him. He knew how bad that sounded and was determined to keep it to himself. He absolutely did not, under any circumstances, want to end up at Eichen House.  
  
He explained that he had just gotten news of his father’s death, and again valiantly fought against any tears when thinking about it. He said he panicked and ran and didn’t intend to hurt himself at all. He also told them he was seeing the counselor at school if he needed to talk to anyone about anything. That meant they were off the hook when it came to doing any follow-up, so he was cleared by psych too.  
  
Bennett came in to talk to him, check in on him, and ask him what had happened. He was clearly distressed by this whole thing, and Isaac couldn’t blame him. House supervisors usually didn’t have to deal with their residents being hit by a car. Luckily the sheriff was there to see everything so New Beginnings wouldn’t be investigated or blamed.  
  
Bennett was reluctant to leave his side, but Isaac assured him it was fine. Someone needed to go and take care of the insurance information and paperwork. Besides, Isaac had to stay a few more days for observation. There was no sense in Bennett sticking around for two days just to sit and do nothing when there was a house full of teenagers to deal with back home. He promised he was just a phone call away before stepping out.  
  
Only then was Scott allowed in, and he came baring sandwiches from the cafeteria that Isaac had never been more grateful for. He didn’t know what time it was, but he knew he was hungry.  
  
“You don’t have to stay here with me,” Isaac said after he finished eating.  
  
“I want to be here,” Scott told him. “Besides, you came to visit me in the hospital. It’s my turn to visit you.”  
  
Isaac smiled a little, remembering when he had cut class to be here with Scott. That had only been a few months ago, but so much had happened since. They had only been friends back then, but now they were dating. Isaac still got a little thrill just thinking of it. Scott McCall was his boyfriend. This person standing here before him, this person who had waited outside his room like a sentry, this person who had cried tears over him, this person who cared whether or not Isaac was hurt or not. This person was his boyfriend.  
  
They didn’t get much time to themselves because Stiles came marching in with a plastic pumpkin full of Halloween candy.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Isaac asked.  
  
“Someone has to be here to call you an idiot for running out into the street.” Stiles said bluntly. “I know Scott won’t tell you that it was dumb, but I will.”  
  
“Stiles...” Scott looked a little pained, like he wanted to tell Stiles, _it’s true, but you shouldn’t say it_. He reached out for Isaac’s leg to pat it gently instead, offering reassurance where Stiles had none.  
  
“Besides, it’s Halloween,” Stiles said, a fact that had startled Isaac earlier when the doctor from Neurology told him the date. He’d gotten hit by the car on mischief night and woken up a day later on Halloween. It was weird to think he’d been knocked out cold all afternoon and all night long.  
  
“I can’t think of any scarier place to be than at the hospital,” Stiles went on. “With people I care about hooked up to machines and stuff.” He gave a full body shudder.  
  
“You care about me?” Isaac asked, incredulous.  
  
“A little. Don’t push it.” Stiles offered up the plastic pumpkin in lieu of saying more on the subject. Isaac reached in blindly and pulled out a mini Twix bar.  
  
After some searching, they found the remote and turned on the TV in the corner of the room. The screen was a little small, but it worked. Stiles turned it to a channel playing Hocus Pocus and they all gathered around to watch.  
  
Erica showed up, dragging Boyd along with her. It looked like they had come from or were about to go to a costume party. Erica had gone for the easiest costume possible by wearing all black and drawing whiskers on her face. She actually managed to pull off the outfit and look really good, though. Boyd was wearing normal clothes, but he had a pair of sunglasses tucked into his breast pocket.  
  
“What are you supposed to be?” Stiles asked him.  
  
“A bouncer,” Boyd told him flatly. “What are you supposed to be?”  
  
Stiles definitely wasn’t wearing a costume but was quick on his feet. “Undercover FBI agent. Obviously.”  
  
After giving Isaac a piece of her mind about recklessness, Erica climbed into his bed with him. She sat down by his feet. They all settled in to eat candy and watch the movie, just like they would have done at one of their houses instead of at the hospital. It wasn’t quite as fun being stuck in a pure white room that smelled like rubbing alcohol, but it was much better than being here alone. Isaac was immensely grateful for the four of them for being here with him.  
  
When visiting hours ended, Stiles, Boyd, and Erica had to leave. Technically, Scott was supposed to leave too, but his mom just gave him a knowing look and let it slide. He would probably have to go home with her when her shift was over, but until then he was sticking it out in Isaac’s room.  
  
“Are you okay?” Scott asked him now that they were alone.  
  
“Yeah,” Isaac nodded. “The painkillers are helping. It doesn’t hurt.”  
  
“That’s not what I meant,” Scott said, concern written all over his face.  
  
Isaac swallowed audibly. Right. His dad was dead. His bottom lip trembled, and tears filled his eyes at the thought alone. He looked down at his lap, at the hospital blanket that had been littered with candy wrappers up until a few moments ago when Scott swept all their trash into a waste bin. Isaac wished he could sweep his feelings away in the same manor.  
  
“I’m never going to know,” Isaac whispered, voice breaking. Tears rolled down his face, big and heavy. “I’m never going to know if he was sorry or not. I’m never going to know if... if he...” _If he killed himself out of guilt, or out of spite. If he did it to hurt me; one last punishment._ Those were the words he couldn’t say, couldn’t dare to speak. Isaac fell apart, suddenly sobbing so hard the pain of it cut through his morphine haze.  
  
Scott went to him at once, climbing into the hospital bed and putting his arm around Isaac’s shoulder. He tried to be gentle, but Isaac was beyond caring about his broken bones and bruises. He sat up and pressed his face into Scott’s shoulder. He sobbed, grabbed for handfuls of Scott’s shirt, and made gasping, choking noises when he tried to breath.  
  
“Why would he do this to me?” Isaac cried. “Why would he do this?”  
  
Distantly, Isaac was aware of the door opening. He hid his face in Scott’s neck and kept on crying.  
  
“It’s okay, Mom.” He heard Scott say.  
  
Melissa was saying something about how Isaac could hurt himself, but he didn’t care. He just held Scott tighter, ribs burning with sharp pain. Every single fucking thing in his life was a mess, except for Scott. Isaac couldn’t let him go; wouldn’t.  
  
“Let me be with him,” Scott demanded, voice rising a little.  
  
Apparently, Scott didn’t want to let go of him either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif of inspiration for this chapter ([x](http://queerstilesarchive.tumblr.com/post/117981178035/we-protect-those-who-cannot-protect-themselves))  
> 
> 
> happy halloween! thanks for reading
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the final chapter of this story. chapter 19 will actually be an epilogue. i hope everyone enjoys the ending!
> 
> thanks as always to my astonishing beta, [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf)! the emissary to my alpha (´⌣`ʃƪ) his advice, guidance and expertise has helped me so much over the years and especially with this story.

When Isaac had worked at the graveyard, he watched his fair share of funerals and memorial services. He’d also watched his fair share of mourners wander aimlessly around the cemetery grounds, quietly discussing their lost loved one, or the proceedings, or the meaning of life. He’d been to his own fair share of funerals, too. He didn’t remember his mom’s funeral - he was too young back then - but he remembered Cam’s.  
  
More than once he had heard people say that funerals were for the living. Isaac always understood that, in the most basic of senses. The dead person certainly wasn’t getting anything out of the ceremony or speeches, it was all for the benefit of the family.  
  
It wasn’t until his dad’s funeral that he realized it was more than that. He thought he would be there alone, mourning by himself, but he was amazed that quite a few people managed to show up. They weren’t there for his dead father, though. They were there for Isaac.  
  
Scott was with him the entire time. He had barely left Isaac’s side at the hospital and was loathe to let him go back to the group home when the doctors finally released him. Of course, Scott was there with Isaac for this, too.  
  
Melissa, Scott’s mom, came. It was kind of weird to see her wearing something other than hospital scrubs. She was dressed all in black. She looked good though, pretty. Isaac told her as much and for some reason it made her blush. She told him if he needed anything, anything at all, she was there for him.  
  
Stiles showed up too, rolling in with his dad in tow. The sheriff also looked weird outside of his uniform. He seemed deeply uncomfortable with being there. He was the one who had to deliver the bad news, after all. This probably wasn’t easy for him, but he’d shown up to support Isaac anyway.  
  
Inexplicably, Derek Hale came. Isaac had texted him back when he was in the hospital, a bare bones message that said, ‘Got hit by a car, still not dead.’ Derek hadn’t replied. It was a little weird to suddenly see him at the memorial service. When Isaac gave him a questioning look, Derek only shrugged and told him he saw the name in the obituaries. Isaac had no clue who wrote that thing and put it in the paper, but obviously they were a fucking idiot because it read ‘Loving Father’ among the accomplishments.  
  
Erica arrived with Boyd. She definitely wasn’t dressed for a funeral, in a dress with a plunging neckline and kitten heels. Somehow that just endeared Isaac to her even more. She didn’t give one single fuck and he adored that about her. She gave him the biggest, fiercest hug possible, which hurt like hell considering his ribs, but he was still grateful. Boyd was silent, stoic, and solid like a rock. The simple nod he gave Isaac said everything and somehow felt just as comforting as Erica’s hug.  
  
Even Doctor Deaton made an appearance. He was toting flowers, an odd assortment of bright yellow daffodils and white tulips. Isaac didn’t know what to make of them. He saw a lot of flowers on a lot of graves working at the cemetery and usually they didn’t include bright spring florals.  
  
Deaton was all too happy to explain that daffodils were a symbol of renewal and fresh starts. White tulips specifically represented forgiveness. The bouquet was definitely a gesture for the living and not the dead. Isaac was so taken aback by the symbolism that he couldn’t even say anything. He just stared at the arrangement and wondered how much Deaton actually knew as opposed to how much he was letting on.  
  
Marin showed up, too. She was cool as always, almost indifferent to the proceedings. Her calm composure was welcome amongst so many uncomfortable people. Isaac was pretty floored when she gravitated towards Deaton and referred to him as her brother in conversation. Scott turned to Isaac and gave him wide eyes, mouthing the word ‘brother?’ back to him when it happened. It kind of made sense; Deaton and Marin weren’t dissimilar.  
  
Bennett came, along with a handful of kids from the group home. They arrived in the big white van with the Beacon Hills New Beginnings decal on the side. Not all the residents were there, as some of them didn’t feel comfortable at a funeral, but a handful showed up to support Isaac; Meredith, Malia, Noah, Lori and Brett.  
  
Lori and Brett were the only surviving members of their own family. Malia’s mom and sister had died in a car crash, and her relationship with her father was strained at best. They understood Isaac and were sympathetic, offering their sincere condolences. Noah apparently felt obligated to be there because he and Isaac were roommates. Isaac supposed that was nice of him.  
  
Meredith, who normally didn’t say much of anything and just stared at him all the time, surprised Isaac by walking right up to him and telling him: “Happiness is beneficial to the body, but it is grief that develops the powers of the mind.” Isaac was pretty perplexed by that, so he just nodded at her and thanked them all for coming. He thanked everyone for coming, really. He had no idea so many people would come here and show up just for him.   
  
Before the service began, a few kids arrived from the swim teams of years past. Isaac’s dad had coached the team for years. The swimmers seemed a little unsure about being there, but they were just as welcome as anyone else.  
  
Some of the swimmers remembered Isaac from when they used to come around the house for backyard pool parties. They all thought it was so cool that Coach Lahey would give them booze and turn a blind eye to sex kids had in the shallow end. Isaac wondered if they realized now how irresponsible of an adult he was, or if they still thought he was cool. No one brought this stuff up, of course, they just patted Isaac on the arm and said how sorry they were for his loss.  
  
Isaac didn’t know who had been put in charge of this - maybe some attorney or state official or prison employee - but his father’s body had been cremated. He got a pretty nice urn, too. Isaac hadn’t picked it out, he simply showed up to the funeral home and there it was. It sat on an altar next to the photo of his mother and father on their wedding day, smiling at the camera.  
  
He sat in the front row of chairs with Scott by his side and cried quietly while some minister he didn’t know gave a eulogy. It was vague, filled with religious commentary even though his family had never been religious, and it detailed his dad’s accomplishments over-archingly. He was the father of two beautiful sons, one a military hero who lost his life in service. He was a successful swim team coach who brought home victories for Beacon Hills High School. Nothing about the domestic disturbance calls to the Lahey home, or how he’d gone to prison for child abuse and false imprisonment.  
  
One of the swim captains from four years ago got up to talk about how Coach Lahey always pushed him hard and demanded success and how that set him up for the rest of his life or something like that. The funeral director asked Isaac if he wanted to speak but Isaac only shook his head. Scott squeezed his hand and told him that was fine.  
  
When the memorial service was over, they rode out to the graveyard in a big long funeral procession. Apparently, there was a plot there for his father. He thought maybe his dad had purchased it a long time ago. It was next to his mother and brother. Isaac was sure that if he checked he would find out that the space next to it was reserved for him, and that was an impossibly morbid thought. The urn went down, a foot and a half into the ground, and Isaac stood staring at it for a long time.  
  
Eventually, Doctor Deaton, Marin, the sheriff, and Mrs. McCall left. Erica walked away with Boyd’s arm slung loose around her neck. The residents from the group home went filing back to the white van. Isaac promised to get a ride back on his own and Bennett left him there, a little reluctantly. The swimmers had congregated off to the side to talk swim team memories, and their quiet conversation was a dwindling buzz as they left one by one. Derek had wandered off to the section of the graveyard where the Hale graves were. If Isaac wasn’t mistaken, Stiles had trailed after him.  
  
“Hey,” Scott held Isaac’s hand in his own. “How are you holding up?”  
  
Isaac shrugged. He kind of felt numb. His ribs hurt a little bit, but that was the only pain he felt, and it was physical, not emotional. “I wish I could be angry at him. It would be so much easier if I could just hate him.”  
  
They were quiet for a long time before Scott tentatively asked, “Want to go get smoothies?”  
  
Isaac smiled weakly. “For a second there, I thought you were going to ask if I wanted to play Duel Otters.”  
  
Scott stifled a laugh. “We could do that too.”  
  
“Nah,” Isaac swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away from the grave. “Smoothies sound good.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, Isaac was almost feeling... normal. He stopped crying himself to sleep every night. His ribs healed, and he could breathe and hug with ease. He spent his days at school with Scott, Stiles, Erica, and Boyd, hanging out with them, eating lunch with them, watching Scott at lacrosse practice. Doctor Deaton was letting him help with the animals, which was a lot cooler than cleaning. He only had a few minor freak outs about a room feeling too small or walls closing in on him. When he bolted, he had the good sense to avoid roads.  
  
While he was in juvie, he had resigned himself to the idea of holidays and life events without his father. It had almost been a relief back then, a weight off his shoulders not to have to deal with him anymore. His dad hadn’t been present in Isaac’s life for almost seven months by the time he passed away. It was easy to carry on without him, because Isaac had already been without him for so long. The separation was finite now, whereas it hadn’t been before, and that did take some getting used to.  
  
Isaac still struggled, of course. He wrestled with the notion that he would never get answers. It was going to take him a long time to figure out how to feel about that. Some days he was indifferent to the entire thing, and others he was blindingly angry, and on other days still he was nothing but hurt. He didn’t try to make sense of his feelings. He just felt them in turns, accepting it all as best he could.  
  
He had so many things to be confused about, and he was slowly picking through the threads of questions and uncertainties with Marin. Now that he knew she was a real person with a family and a life outside of sitting placidly at her desk, it was a little easier to talk to her. They were digging deep into the topic of closure and how to live with unanswered questions. So far as Isaac could tell it just took a lot of time.  
  
Melissa was really nice about Scott and him dating. She was more than willing to welcome Isaac into her life and their home. It was an abrupt but very much appreciated difference from the homophobia he had experienced with his father.  
  
On Thanksgiving, he went to Stiles’ house to celebrate. Apparently the McCalls ate there every year and Isaac was invited. Thankfully he wasn’t the only newcomer that year because Derek Hale showed up, too. Evidently, he was dating Stiles now, but Isaac wasn’t allowed to say anything about it in front of the sheriff. Officially, Derek was only there because he didn’t have his own family to eat Thanksgiving with.  
  
“You actually like that kid?” Isaac murmured to him when they got a moment alone in the living room together.  
  
Derek looked over his shoulder through the open entryway into the dining room where Scott was helping set the table and Stiles was trying, and failing, to juggle the decorative miniature pumpkins that Melissa had set out as a centerpiece.  
  
“He drives me nuts,” Derek muttered, darkly.  
  
Isaac smirked, not understanding but easily accepting. He had been so sure at the gas station that he wouldn’t ever really see Derek again, but it wasn’t kind of nice having him around. He was getting better too, even learning to smile a little. It gave Isaac hope that things would turn out well for the both of them.  
  
“You think we’re gonna be okay?” Isaac asked, looking down at his feet and scuffing a toe along the hardwood floors.  
  
“I don’t know,” Derek told him. It wasn’t a no, and that was more optimism than he could have hoped for.  
  
Isaac sat next to Scott at the dinner table and they bumped elbows as they ate. Scott kept turning to him and smiling at him all night long, so genuinely happy it was contagious. When the pumpkin pie came out, Scott cut it into pieces and gave Isaac the biggest one with the most whipped cream. He was pretty sure it was a metaphor for their entire relationship, Scott always finding a way to give him the most amount of happiness possible.  
  
After they ate, someone turned on a football game. Isaac was hard pressed to care. He and Scott went out for a walk instead. Scott took his inhaler with him because it was especially cold that evening. They lapped the block a few times, talking about life and things and how happy they were together. Isaac liked being outside in the open air, and he was pretty sure Scott was catching on to this.  
  
“Hey, can I say something and... you won’t like, freak out?” Scott asked as they walked past the same houses for a third time.  
  
Isaac’s eyebrows went up. He made no promises.  
  
“Uhm, I know we’ve only been dating for a few months or whatever, but, like... with all the stuff that’s happened, I think I’m in love with you,” Scott told him.  
  
Isaac was so struck by this he stopped walking. Straight up, his feet just stopped moving. Scott stopped too and didn’t try to hide his eyes or look away. He stared right at Isaac and went on with his declaration of love.  
  
“I wanted to tell you at the hospital, but it didn’t seem like the right time. I don’t want to lose you. Like, ever. I’m... I love you.” He finished confidently. Confidence only lasted so long in the face of complete silence though, so after a long moment of Isaac standing there, staring at him slack jawed, he hastened to speak again. “You don’t have to say it back-“  
  
“I love you too,” Isaac told him.  
  
Scott’s expression turned hopeful, like he couldn’t believe he’d just heard Isaac say those words back to him.  
  
“I don’t want to lose you either,” Isaac continued. “You remind me that the world isn’t some dark, awful place. It’s got you in it, and you’re so kind and caring and good. I don’t know what I would do without you, Scott. I love you too, of course I do.”  
  
Scott had turned red with a warm blush, but he was grinning. “Woah, that’s like so much more poetic than what I said.”  
  
The poetry of their words wasn’t important though, and to prove this, Isaac leaned in for a kiss, soft and sweet. Scott kissed back.  
  
That night Isaac slept over, curled up in Scott’s bed with his head on his boyfriend’s chest. It was his favorite place to be in the entire world. Scott liked to run his fingers through Isaac’s blonde curls when they laid in bed together. As long as they left the door open, Melissa didn’t mind.  
  
Since he slept over whenever he could, Isaac had gone out and bought his own Nirvana poster with the baby swimming, grabbing for the dollar. He asked Scott, innocently, if he could put it up on his wall. There were other pictures and posters pinned up, so it wouldn’t be entirely out of place.  
  
(“Do you really like Nirvana or something?” Scott had asked him.  
  
“Not exactly,” Isaac shrugged in reply. “This baby and I have just been through a lot together, that’s all.”)  
  
Isaac stared thoughtfully at the poster, letting the events of the day wash over him. He thought it would hit him harder, celebrating a holiday without his dad there. In all actuality, he didn’t think about his father’s absence even once. For a few minutes during dinner he was a little sad that Cam wasn’t there, but he didn’t miss his dad. Meals with his father were always tension-filled, and Isaac never knew when he was going to snap. Not even holidays were immune. It was nice not to be afraid; not to worry about punishment.  
  
He would never have to worry about his father punishing him ever again. Isaac had known this for a while, but the realization was finally sinking in. _His father would never punish him again_. Not ever.   
  
Isaac was officially done. He wasn’t going to let his father terrorize him from beyond the grave. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life letting unanswered questions haunt him. His dad had no more power over him; absolutely none.  
  
“I decided something,” Isaac murmured quietly.  
  
“Yeah?” Scott said softly as he stroked Isaac’s hair.  
  
“I’m not going to let him punish me anymore,” Isaac told him. “I’m not going to let him hurt me anymore.”  
  
He was going to be happy. He was going to live, and love, and thrive.  
  
“It’s that easy?” Scott asked.  
  
“I don’t know if it’s going to be easy... but it’s what I want.”  
  
Scott kissed his head. “I want that for you too.”  
  
Because he could say it now, Isaac tipped his chin up and told Scott, “I love you.”  
  
Scott smiled and shifted so he could kiss Isaac on the mouth. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading. 
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


	19. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it! the epilogue is here. i hope everyone has enjoyed reading this fic! :)
> 
> and finally, thanks to my glorious beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf). although this story has come to an end, my appreciate and gratitude for him has not! thank you for everything, subway.

 

“Oh my god, Liam, yes!” A cry rang across the cafeteria. “Yes, yes! I’ll go to prom with you!”  
  
Isaac looked across the sea of students to see one of the lacrosse players in full gear. A few other players on the team were holding taut a poster-sized length of paper that read ‘Hayden, will you go to prom with me?’ The word ‘prom’ was featured in large, hand written text. Isaac had missed the action, but it was clear that someone had lobbed a lacrosse ball through the ‘o’ in ‘prom’ with the entire lunch room as an audience. It was actually kind of impressive, considering how small the target of the ‘o’ was, and the ball had hit right in the middle.  
  
Erica set her tray down and leaned over Isaac’s shoulder. She made gagging noises. “Sickening.”  
  
Isaac thought it was kind of cute. Cheesy, but cute. He certainly didn’t want Scott to do a grand gesture like this in front of so many people but didn’t find it as disgusting as Erica seemed to.  
  
Stiles, who had turned to look over his shoulder at the commotion behind him, turned back to the table. “What the hell, those two are underclassmen. They can’t even go to prom!”  
  
“Junior prom,” Isaac reminded him.  
  
“No one needs a promposal for junior prom,” he groused.  
  
“Aw, still mad that you can’t take tall-dark-and-handsome to prom with you?” Erica called him out.  
  
Because of the age difference, Derek wasn’t allowed to come to their prom. Even though Stiles was eighteen now, and he could openly date someone older, the school frowned on anyone over twenty-one showing up to school functions. The Sheriff wasn’t all too thrilled with this situation either. Stiles was still working on warming his dad up to the relationship, but there wasn’t much he could do about school policy. He was especially sullen about being dateless, and Isaac didn’t blame him. This was their senior prom, after all.  
  
“You can always be our third wheel,” Erica offered, gesturing between herself and Boyd.  
  
Boyd said nothing, but he made a face that spoke for him; ‘No, he can’t’  
  
“Keep your polygamist debauchery away from me,” Stiles scoffed, offended.  
  
“Aw, Liam got a date,” Scott said happily as he arrived at the lunch table. He set down his tray and sat down beside Isaac, scooching their chairs closer together. Scott hadn’t exactly asked Isaac to prom, and Isaac hadn’t asked Scott, but it was basically a given that they were going together.  
  
Isaac was looking forward to it. He kept smiling to himself whenever he thought of Scott in a suit with his hair combed back. Neither of them could dance, a well-established fact that became evident after the blacklight party at Derek’s loft last summer. Isaac hated that party. It had been way too dark in there with too many people. Scott had whisked him out to the roof of the building where they sat and looked for stars instead. Isaac really wanted to attempt at least one slow dance with Scott at the prom, though.  
  
“You guys work today?” Stiles asked.  
  
Isaac nodded, and Scott said, “Yup.”  
  
“Want to come hang out at the preserve after?” he followed up.  
  
Isaac made a face. “Is Derek going to be there?” He liked to hang out in the woods and do absolutely nothing amongst the dense trees as much as the next guy, but double dates were just weird. He would never get used to seeing Stiles and Derek make out. He was pretty sure Stiles didn’t appreciate having to bear witness to his best friend’s frenching technique either.  
  
“I need to study,” Scott said, cutting Stiles off before he could answer.  
  
Stiles huffed a dejected sigh, but he would never actually discourage Scott from studying. Everyone knew how hard he was working on his grades this year. He had already gotten his acceptance letter from Berkeley. It had arrived last month. Isaac would never forget the look on Scott’s face when he found out he had gotten in. There was lots of cheering and excited hugging, and they rode straight to the hospital to crash Melissa’s shift and tell her the good news where the cheering and hugging continued. Even though he was accepted, Scott still needed to keep his grades up for the rest of the year and pass his classes.  
  
“Boyd and I are free,” Erica batted her eyelashes at Stiles from across the table.  
  
One of Boyd’s eyebrows went up as if to say ‘No, we aren’t’ but he remained quiet as always.  
  
“For the last time, Erica,” Stiles groaned. “I know I’m open-minded, but I will not be the mutually agreed-upon third party in your weird double-husband marriage!”  
  


* * *

  
Isaac wrapped his arms tight around Scott’s waist. They rode off from school towards the animal clinic, motorcycle engine roaring as they went. Isaac had been immensely disappointed to find out that riding on the back of someone’s motorcycle was not nearly as romantic as it seemed. The bulky helmet made laying his cheek on Scott’s shoulder impossible, and the ride was often bumpy instead of smooth. Still, he got to cuddle up close to his boyfriend and Isaac was absolutely never going to complain about that.  
  
When he turned eighteen earlier in the year, all the funds in his bank account finally became accessible. Since Isaac’s father had died without a will, intestate laws meant that his bank account, assets, and property went to Isaac. The day after his birthday he spent a long, cold, February morning in the office of an administrator of the state. He signed a bunch of things he didn’t really understand. He sort of understood them, in a general sense, but he couldn’t absorb every detail or the fine print and he didn’t try. His dad didn’t have much, but what little he had was Isaac’s now.  
  
The very first thing Isaac did with his money was buy Scott a motorcycle. Scott was just about to settle for some used, neon green Kawasaki sports bike because he was sick of saving up and wanted some decent transportation. Isaac surprised him with an Aprilia Tuono instead. It was an older model, but it was fresh off the lot. Although he would deny it if asked, Scott actually teared up when he saw it. He refused to accept it at first, but Isaac absolutely would not take no for an answer. Scott had done so much for him and paid for so many things so casually. This was just Isaac’s way of giving back.  
  
Scott had become his personal chauffeur after that. He drove Isaac anywhere he wanted to go. He insisted on it, really. Mostly they just went to school, to work, and sometimes out to the preserve.  
  
Scott pulled in to the back lot of the animal clinic and took up one of the parking spaces there. They walked in together, helmets under their arms, looking much cooler than either of them actually were. Deaton was just coming out of one of the exam rooms and he smiled at the two of them as they came in from the back entrance.  
  
“Oh, good, you’re here,” he said pleasantly to both of them before turning his attention to Scott specifically. “Scott, would you mind placing an IV in the cat in exam one?”  
  
Deaton had been working closely with Scott for quite a while now, pulling him in to assist on procedures instead of having him clean or stock cabinets. Scott was grateful for all the hands-on experience and jumped at any chance to try something new or practice the things he was learning. He practically lit up with excitement to be asked to place an IV.  
  
Isaac reached out to take the motorcycle helmet from Scott’s grasp. “Go ahead,” he said, smiling.  
  
Scott flashed a grateful grin at him and hurried off to the exam room.  
  
“When are we going to teach you how to start an IV?” Deaton asked Isaac.  
  
“Uh, I’m good with wrapping sprains and stocking shelves,” Isaac assured.  
  
There was only room for one future veterinarian in his and Scott’s relationship, and it wasn’t Isaac. He didn’t like the idea of poking cats and dogs with needles, even if it was for their own good. He would happily leave that up to the professionals. Or, soon-to-be professionals in Scott’s case. It was nice of Deaton to offer, and he did like assisting on the less invasive procedures. He just wasn’t trying to make a career out of this like Scott was.  
  
Isaac took their helmets into the break room and set them on the table along with his book bag. He clocked himself and Scott in. Isaac went to check the kennels. The dog that had stayed overnight after being spayed was gone. Her owner had picked her up earlier in the day. He had to go in and clean up the crate. Isaac would need to grab the cleaning supplies from closet. Normally Scott was around to do this for him; not always, but most of the time.  
  
With more bravery and confidence than he really felt, Isaac went to the closet. He pulled open the door and managed not to recoil at the looming darkness. He reached in to turn on the light while standing back as far as possible, stretching his arm and using just his fingertips to hit the light switch. The light illuminated the shelves, the cleaning supplies, the mop and the broom.  
  
The brightness settled Isaac enough that he could step inside and snatch up the spray bottle he needed. His heart was thrumming a little in his chest as he stepped out into the safety of the hallway. He didn’t quite have the heart to reach back in and turn off the light, but he left the door ajar and knew someone else would get it. It was just a small step, but he was trying his best to face his fears in little ways as often as possible. He allowed himself a moment to be proud of his small feat before he went back to work.  
  


* * *

  
“Hey, boys. How was work?” Melissa asked when they came in through the front door. She was sitting on the couch, folding a load of towels and stacking the clean ones on the coffee table.  
  
“Good,” Scott reported.  
  
“Scott got to start an IV on a cat,” Isaac said, knowing full well that Scott wouldn’t boast about these little accomplishments.  
  
Melissa got a real fond look on her face. “Like mother, like son,” she said happily, hugging a hand towel to her chest. Reality seemed to set in a little and she was quick to clarify her statement. “I mean. Your patients are cats, and mine are fully grown human beings, but the principal is the same.”  
  
“No, it’s totally the same,” Scott agreed, standing at the foot of the stairs with a grin on his face. “You should see how fierce some of the kittens are at work. They put fully-grown men to shame.”  
  
“Do you need help with the laundry?” Isaac offered. He left his book bag by the steps and closed the short distance between himself and the coffee table where piles of folded towels were sitting.  
  
“Oh, no, honey. I’ve got this,” Melissa said, but that didn’t stop Isaac.  
  
He picked up the stack he knew to be dish towels and carted them off to the kitchen to tuck them away in the drawer beneath the microwave. When he came back, he found the stack that went in the upstairs bathroom and lifted it into one arm.  
  
“Thank you, Isaac,” she said, very genuinely.   
  
Isaac just smiled a little in reply. He was used to doing chores. At the group home, at the juvenile detention center, and at home with his father, there had always been strict rules about cleaning. Isaac had made a habit of picking up after himself because if he didn’t, he would be punished. It was second nature for him to help with the laundry or to get up to wash the dishes after dinner. He had fallen into a pattern of helping around the McCall house too, especially after he moved in.  
  
When Isaac turned eighteen, he had to leave the group home. He was an adult and New Beginnings was for teenagers. He just couldn’t stay. For a lot of kids in the system, that was a real make-or-break moment. Either they find a place to live, keep working, and make a life for themselves... or they don’t. They end up on the streets and out of luck.  
  
Luckily, Isaac had a place to go. Melissa had generously offered up the spare bedroom in her home. He spent almost every afternoon and all his overnights there anyway, it already felt like home to him. He offered to pay some type of rent, but she refused his money.  
  
Instead, he took to helping around the house as a way to repay her kindness and hospitality. Cleaning and doing chores as a gesture of appreciation was so much better than doing them under threat of punishment. Isaac actually kind of liked cleaning, and he especially liked how happy Melissa got when she came home to a neat home and no housework waiting for her.  
  
Isaac went up the stairs, floorboards creaking under his feet. He deposited the towels in the closet of the guest bathroom. He was coming back out into the hall when Scott popped his head out of his doorway.  
  
“I can’t find my bio notes,” he said, but didn’t seem as worried about that as he should be. “Did I leave my notebook in your room last night?”  
  
“Uh, I’ll check.” Isaac didn’t think so, but maybe. He went to the room at the far end of the hall, the one he had taken for his own. Isaac didn’t own much, what he did have was safely squared away in the chest of drawers that sat in the corner and not the closet because he didn’t like going in the closet if he didn’t have to. If Scott’s notebook was in there, it would be pretty immediately obvious.  
  
As he pushed the door in something else became immediately obvious. His room was filled... filled with balloons, and streamers, and a bunch of ticker tape confetti all over the bed and hardwood floors. A banner strung from wall to wall had “PROM?” hanging from it in massive letters.  
  
Isaac’s heart swelled in his chest, throbbing with love and appreciation and happiness. Scott’s arms wrapped around him from behind, a solid warmth that made Isaac’s feel comfortable and safe.  
  
“Isaac, do you want to go to prom with me?” Scott asked, all pleased because he already knew the answer.  
  
“Yeah,” Isaac breathed, voice catching a little so that the word came out as a whisper. His face broke into a big, cheesy grin and he turned to look behind himself at Scott. “Yeah, yes.”  
  
“Sorry I didn’t make a big sign and ask you in front of the whole cafeteria,” Scott said, teasing him because he knew full well that Isaac would have hated that. This was so much better. This was perfect.  
  
Isaac leaned in for a kiss. “Thank you for this. I love you.”  
  
“I love you, too,” Scott told him.  
  
After a beat, Isaac asked “The bio notebook thing was just a rouse to get me to look in my room, right? You didn’t actually lose those? Because I’ll kill you if you lost those.”  
  
Scott laughed. “No, they’re safe in my backpack! I promise!”  
  


* * *

  
“Even a molecule with nonpolar covalent bonds may have positively and negatively charged regions,” Isaac read aloud. “Electrons are not always symmetrically distributed in such a molecule; at any instant they may accumulate by chance in one part of the molecule or another. The results are ever-changing regions of positive and negative charge that enable atoms and molecules to stick to one another.”  
  
They were in their usual study spot on the steps of the back porch, half-spilling into the backyard. Isaac wasn’t sure how the back porch ended up being their spot, but it was. They found themselves there every night without fail.  
  
At the beginning of the school year when it was basically still summer outside, they had the shade of the porch awning and the noise of bugs to accompany them. During fall and winter, they cuddled up with their blankets, recreating their first date by sitting under the stars as Isaac read aloud. Now that spring had thawed away into a nice warm May, they could relax in the warm sunshine and cool breeze, leaning against the steps and banister as Isaac helped Scott to study.  
  
“These Van Der Waals molecules are individually weak and occur only when the atoms and molecules are very close together. When many such interactions occur simultaneously, however, they can be powerful; Van Der Waals interactions are the reason a gecko can walk straight up a wall.” Isaac shifted the text book in his hands to show Scott the picture of a gecko on tree as if this were interesting.  
  
Sometimes it seemed like Scott wasn’t listening to him at all. He would sink down to the lawn and lay flat out in the grass, hands behind his head as he gazed at the clouds in the sky. Or he would sit and braid blades of grass together, staring down at his lap. It truly seemed like his attention was elsewhere, but then at the end of the chapter when Isaac asked him the skill point questions he would be able to answer almost all of them.  
  
After reading out-loud, they always broke out Scott’s notebook and went back over the chapter to make notes. Scott was absolutely awful at taking notes. If it were up to him, he would copy the entire text word-for-word because ‘it’s all important’. Isaac had to help him refine information to bullet points. They were getting better at it. Scott had certainly improved in his note-taking skills since junior year, but that wasn’t saying much. Isaac wondered if he would have to do this for the entirety of Scott’s college career. He actually didn’t mind the idea.  
  
“You should do this,” Scott told him.  
  
Isaac gave him a look. “Do what?”  
  
“Teach.”  
  
Isaac laughed. This wasn’t teaching. This was studying. It was very different from becoming a teacher.  
  
“I mean it! You’re good at this stuff. You’re good at helping people.” Scott encouraged him. Lately he’d been in a roll, trying to help Isaac find ‘what he was good at’.  
  
“Thanks,” Isaac accepted the compliment although he wasn’t sure he agreed. “I don’t know, I’ll figure it out.” He still had no idea what to major in. He was pretty sure he was just going to go in to his freshman year of college undeclared.  
  
For a long time Isaac had never seen a future for himself beyond digging graves. It was still hard to figure out what he was going to do with his life. For the first time, he felt like he had options and opportunity. It was a little overwhelming.  
  
He kind of liked the idea of Scott becoming a vet and opening his own practice, or taking over after Deaton, and Isaac would just go on as a vet tech cleaning and filing things. It wasn’t a dream job, but it was familiar and safe. Scott, by way of Stiles’ advice, kept telling him to branch away from the familiar and not to be so afraid of change. Isaac was trying.  
  
Isaac had gotten accepted to a bunch of schools adjacent to Berkeley like Patten University, Laney College, California State University East Bay, and a bunch of places in San Francisco like City College of San Francisco, University of San Francisco, and San Francisco State University.  
  
It turned out that his ‘permanent record’ didn’t really mean anything. It was automatically sealed when he turned eighteen. Absolutely no one knew or had access to find out about his stint in juvie. Funnily enough, more colleges were concerned about his expulsion than his time in juvenile detention. Also, talking about his experience in the foster system made for great college application fodder.  
  
All the schools he was accepted to were within a short drive of the Berkeley campus. Stiles was already looking for apartments for the three of them to rent in that area. He too had gotten accepted at Berkeley and was ready to major in criminology and follow his father into a career of law enforcement.

They were really doing this. The plans were being laid out. In a few months they would all be off at college together, starting something new.  
  
Isaac had a whole future ahead of him. He still had to figure out what he wanted out of it, but he was okay with that; he was okay with figuring it out as he went along. Things were looking good; better than he ever could have hoped.  


* * *

* * *

  
  
_If you never lose_  
_How are you gonna know when you’ve won?_  
_[**If it's never dark** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nY-b3uG6A7o)_  
_How are you gonna know the sun when it shines?_  
_You’ve got to let it shine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading.
> 
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